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beautifulbuckys · 2 years

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Rumor Has It (40′s!Bucky Barnes x Reader)

FIC PINTEREST BOARD

Summary: As a local bartender, you’d heard a thing or two about James Barnes.

Warnings: Nazi mention, war mentions, a little bit of language

A/N: AHHHH tiktok gave me some of this dialogue and I nEEDED to write with it!

You’d heard about James Barnes.

He was a legend in your line of work. Rumor had it that he’d been to every lounge in Brooklyn. Many bartenders had spoken of serving him and the lady he’d selected for the evening. A lounge was his go-to date spot. We played music, served drinks, and had a pleasant atmosphere. The lounges in the area were always dark and easy to hide in. He’s courted a lot of different women. God forbid a past girl catches him with his newest woman. It hasn’t happened yet, so you’ve heard.

However, you have never met him. He has yet to stop by your lounge. He has yet to bring a date. You can’t blame him, your location was on the edge of town and kind of hard to get to. The narrow, unlit roads were daunting to those looking for a good time. A dark alleyway didn’t exactly scream ‘come visit!’.

The fact that he had been in the army didn’t exactly help. His long stint of courting a randomized girl every night got interrupted when America involved itself in the war. He was quickly shipped off, practically disappearing. His existence was ghost-like. Many mentioned him, both men and women alike. The gentlemen he’d done laboring with during long, grueling New York summers were speaking of him like an old friend. His name seemed like a memory on some of the female bar-goer’s lips. It seemed like he had never left. Even though you had never met him, all the stories you’d heard made it seem like you did. Many customers you met had known him. Simply, it became obvious he befriended a lot of people in the area. Nobody you’d met had something negative to say about the man. Since he left for war, many who stayed behind gained more respect for him.

Rumor has it he’s back.

Tuesday afternoon you were working a shift for a sick bartender when someone uttered interesting words.

“Bucky and Steve are back, they’re going on some victory tour or something. I heard Rogers got handsome while overseas, apparently, all the women in Europe have been swooning. My husband wrote me all about it!” A young woman sitting across the bar whisper-yelled. She couldn’t disguise her excitement for the news. However, it was hard to tell what she was more excited about, whether James and Steve are home or her husband had sent a letter.

You’d seen pictures of James. You could admit, he was an attractive man. You totally understood why he had women at his feet left and right. Usually, though, that meant they had an ego. You already dealt with that during your shifts at the lounge. You didn’t have time to entertain a cocky man that found himself to be king of the world. It just wasn’t in the cards.

As the afternoon melted into the evening, the lounge became a bit busier. Typically, Friday through Sunday was the busy days. Every now and again, it would pick up a little during the weekdays. However, this wasn’t a “picking up on a Tuesday” kind of busy. Something was going on, you thought. And then it all made sense.

James Barnes had waltzed into the creaky wooden door. He was wearing his brown Army uniform. A tan cap covered his brown hair, which has gotten a little longer since the most recent picture you’d seen. He also looked tired, the bottom of his eyes had sunken in and his eyelids were now permanently half-lidded. He didn’t look an ounce less handsome, though.

The moment he walked through the door, the volume of the lounge increased dramatically. Every single customer that could stand on their own two feet was loudly welcoming the solider home. James received many pats on the back from men playing billiards; who seemed to respect him for her service. He also had been on the receiving end of many hugs from women old to young. His grateful smile never faltered. He spoke to everyone that gave him the time of day. Never once did he seem annoyed or appalled at the sudden attention. All eyes were on him. Yet, he never shied away. He seemed like the same man you’d heard stories about.

Once he could get away from the welcome wagon, he dragged his feet towards the bar. The farther he got away from the crowd, the more his smile fell. If he was an actor, that would’ve been an award-winning performance.

“Sergeant Barnes, you’re shorter than I anticipated,” You said once he reached the bartop. Now that he was closer, you noticed the small cuts and scabs littered his face. The bridge of his nose housed a nasty gash, which was obvious from a puffy scar that now replaced it.

His tired eyes locked with yours, smiling at you. “That’s no way to welcome home a soldier,” His Brooklynn accent came poking through. It was thick, something that you’d mock to your friends the next time you see them.

“I’m afraid we’ve never met,”

“I’d remember if we did. I’d never forget a face like that,”

“Is that what you say to all the girls?” His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. You’d rendered the quippy James Barnes speechless. Not many can say that based on the tales you’d heard. From the stories, you could tell he was part of the talkative bunch. He had a reputation to talk anyone’s ear off if he was given the chance. “What can I get you, James?”

He chuckled, sitting at a barstool. “Please, call my Bucky,”

“That’s not what I asked you,”

“Bourbon,”

You smile, “You like your gums feeling tingly?” You proceeded to carefully pour him some of the house bourbon, choosing to pour it into a short glass. It was wider than a shot glass, but a similar height. It was perfect for his larger hands to hold. He wouldn’t be able to drop it unless he did so purposefully.

Bucky took the glass as you slid it across the counter and instantly took a sip. After swallowing, he exhaled loudly. “You know, you’re the first person to not kiss my ass since getting home,”

“That’s not very gentleman-like language, Barnes,”

“Well I am a soldier, never claimed to have the mouth of an angel,”

You decided to leave him alone for a moment, choosing to tend to the other customers at the bar. You’d poured a few refills of water or whiskey, and made a few martinis. Every now and again, you’d steal a glance at James. He sat on his barstool in his lonesome. In fact, it’s the first time you’ve ever heard nor seen the man alone in a place like this. He always brought a date. His elbows laid on the stained bartop, leaning into his arms. He seemed slightly tired, more reserved than the James you’d always heard of. Besides his arrival, you hadn’t seen him speak to anyone. A few people tried to spark some conversation. Their attempts always consisted of questions about the war or his friend Steve Rogers.

You’d heard rumors about Steve Rogers too.

Steve and James were a package plan. You couldn’t get one without also getting the other. Since they were young, they’d been attached at the hip. Steve had a dream of joining the army when the war began. His father was a soldier, and he wanted nothing more than to follow in those footsteps. However, he was skinny and sick. He got denied time and time again. When Bucky left, it was difficult for him. Not soon after, Steve was getting escorted by military officials around the city of New York. Many figured he finally got caught lying on his enlistment forms. Then one day, he’s in the paper 150 pounds heavier and with more muscle than you had seen in your entire life.

And now the man is a war hero. He’s a symbol of an American victory.

And James Barnes is still just James Barnes. Suddenly the outgoing, all eyes on him, ladies man was cowering behind the shadow of his best friend. Since they got home, he’d been avoiding all questions about Steve. Avoiding any Captain America-related questions.

“Pretty damn quiet over here, Barnes,” You mutter, leaning onto the bartop. He flashes a small smile your way, sitting up at your presence.

“Not much people want to talk about besides killing nazis. I’m kind of tired of acting like some hero, though. I’m not this high and mighty guy everyone acts like I am. The only difference between me and them is the uniform. I’m no hero, I’m just a man in a tan uniform acting like something I’m not,” Bucky spoke quietly, staring at his hands that were folded in front of him. His small smile had turned into a sad one, reflecting his tone of voice.

“Incredibly untrue, Sargent. See Tommy over there? The one with the red billiards stick. His Momma forced him to enlist. He lied on his forms and said he had asthma and a past with pneumonia so he wouldn't get through. Then he went back and told his Momma they rejected him so he couldn’t fight. He really just wanted to stay behind and keep smokin’ those damn cigars with his pals,” The story you told was true. It was again, just a rumor you’d heard, but once you served his sister a few too many imported wine glasses and she got to talking. By 10 p.m you knew all the family’s deepest darkest secrets. You’d never tell them, though. Unless, of course, it was to cheer up a handsome pouty soldier on a Tuesday night.

“Is that true?”

“Truer than the sky being blue,” You held out your pinky to the man, suggesting a pinky promise. He held out his finger with a smile, wrapping his around yours enthusiastically. “There is a difference between you and him. He didn’t want to fight because he was selfish. You fought and saved a hell of a lot of people in the process. You have a good heart, James. Don’t undervalue yourself,”

His sad smile was long gone, a simple memory. His laugh replaced his once somber, hushed voice.

“You feel like an old friend,”

“A lot of people say that when I give them booze,” You manage to laugh. He laughs right along with you. When he laughs, his eyebrows raise up and cause some wrinkles on his forehead. His hairline seems to raise up along with his brows which is entertaining to watch.

He smiles, “Not like that. I feel like I’ve known you. I know I’ve never met you as I said, I’d never forget a face like that. You just seem so familiar. Like I’ve known you for a lifetime and then some,”

“Are you calling me old, Barnes?”

“I’d never dare to talk about a beautiful dames age!” James chuckled at your insinuation. He knew you were joking, it was obvious that it was just how you were. He could tell you had thick skin by the banter you kept up.

“With all this talk about my looks, I’m starting to think I’m the next on the ‘girl’s I’d like to take dancing’ list,” You joked. Without him even asking, you decided to pour him more of his drink. Usually, you’d have to charge for a refill. Hell, you forgot to even charge him for the first drink. Yet, he’s a soldier returning home. If your manager gave you hell for it, you’d explain the special circumstance.

All the rumors you’d heard of this man seemed to be drifting away. You’d been told gossip; not truths. This man wasn’t just some womanizer with no regard for feelings. James Barnes was far from a man that didn’t believe love existed, only beauty. James Barnes wanted to be loved. He didn’t want to be held on a pedestal for all to worship and speak about. He wanted his flaws to be just as cherished as his perfections.

“I can add you to the list if you’d like. You would be the only occupant and I’m willing to take you dancing as soon as possible,”

“See you tomorrow at 6?” You took the bait. The more you two talked, the more interested in him you became. He bantered back and forth with you and didn’t get offended at your silly comments. He never once made an offensive comment towards you, which was something you were used to as a bartender. And it would be a crime not to take note of his beautiful eyes and charming smile.

He smiled.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,”

And to think, a few rumors was the start of this all.

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romirola · 9 months

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for the WIP game, lets seeee… can you tell us what inspired you most during the writing process, like maybe a certain song or Redacted video?

by the way I’ve got to tell you how much I admire you conviction I deeply envy your ability to have one WIP and fuckin knock that shit out the park my undiagnosed ADHD could literally not fathom it you beautiful mythical creature

-Lexi Sun ☀️

From this ask game!

@weightedblanketjoyfriend, thank you so much for this ask! It's always a joy to talk about fics, and to talk about the process of a fic!? You spoil me!! (And that's why you get a few short snippets!) Thank you for those kind words, but honestly, forcing myself to work on one WIP is less about conviction and more about my own sanity. It's too hard for me to keep all the plots in my head. I just gotta get my head down and focus on the one, or else I'll feel too pressured to make progress on everything and make progress on nothing, not to mention suck all the fun out of something I find to be so, so enjoyable. Onto my writing process for Balancing Act:

Most of my fics start with a bit of dialogue that I hear inside my head and really, really like. So much so, that I get obsessed with it. From there, I start to construct the immediate scene/context of that dialogue. Who said it? Why? To whom? What's happening to prompt that speech/situation? (Fun fact, I can point out the "starter" dialogue snippet of every fic I have written, because it just turns over and over and over again in my head before I even start drafting.) In the case of Balancing Act, the starter bit of dialogue was:

“It… It hurts!” they half-cried, half growled. Sharp teeth pushed up from out of their gums, shooting lightning bolts through their jowls. Angel sputtered and choked, overwhelmed with the onslaught of stretching and expanding every part of their body somehow experienced all at once. “Hurts bad… Make it stop! Please, I can’t…” They wrestled out of David’s arms, rolling over to the other corner of the bed. They teetered near the edge before toppling onto the ground in a wriggling heap. “Ahh!” David vaulted after them. “Angel!” He quickly ran to his whimpering mate. When David stepped to the side to reach Angel on the floor, he gasped sharply. An enormous black wolf lay sprawled out on the ground, awkwardly trying to balance on massive paws and twisting their sleek head in every direction to get a good look at their furry, beastly body.

Yeah, 9.9/10 times, my starter dialogue is hurt/comfort... Very predictable Romi behavior right there...

Eventually, a story starts to form around the moment, and I follow that story backwards and forewords. If I'm lucky, more "starter moments" form in my head and the connections between moments becomes clearer. For example, once I realized Angel struggled with a spontaneous shift, and that their instinctual confusion with experiencing the process would probably lead to the shift causing them immense pain, I also realized I'd love to see Angel thrive as alpha, which led to me to hear this little bit of dialogue:

Janelle’s smug grin faltered. She flinched away from Angel, her pegasus suddenly wanting to flee from the predator before her. “I…” “And say that breach happened in front of an unempowered human who decided to go hunting shifters for sport, trying to bring home a mythical pelt, thinking they’re going to be the one to show the world Bigfoot exists,” Angel pressed. “What then, if shifters were compromised? If bounties were put out on our heads by unempowered people who see shifters as animals? If shifters were hunted for sport, maybe legally, if the unempowered government were afraid of the half-monster things they'd fear you to be? Or, maybe instead, you want shifters all to be rounded up and caged like animals by some amatuer-wanna-biologists? Is that how you want to live? Trapped? Experimented on? Always tranqued out your mind? Kept as someone’s pet, with an electric collar to keep you on your best behavior?” Angel felt the wolf within howl and groan at the mere thought of the pack being subjected to such cruelty. <em>Pack. Protect. Threat. Shift. Shift now. Attack.</em> Their need to take down the pegasus and punish her for her insubordination was growing into a painful ache. How dare this woman be so cavalier about covert? Didn’t she understand the stakes? Didn’t she realize how brutally and power-hungry the unempowered part of society could be? Angel did.

Or sometimes, the moments are totally unrelated! And that's a fun part of the process, too, because it means I have to get creative to see how the moments lead into each other. For example one has nothing to do with alpha!Angel, but it wouldn't leave me alone until I figured out how to include it:

“Watch yourself,” Sweetheart warned though their yawn undercut the normal edge with which they spoke. “Because that cute little girl is going to grow up to be the strongest stealth anyone has ever seen.” They held out a threatening finger. “And if anyone tries to deter her from that path in any way, shape, or form, I'll rip their guts with my bare hands and cloak the evidence before they even knew they were missing organs.” Milo shuddered at the graphic imagery Sweetheart used. “Okay, okay.” He wiggled Sweetheart over so that they were tucked in close to his body, turned inward so that their head could rest on his chest. “I think someone is up way past their bedtime, and their exhaustion is once again making them a little bit too vengeful for their own good.” He brushed a hand across Sweetheart’s forehead, letting his fingers linger on their temple until Sweetheart's blinks began to slow. “You are so hot when you're violent,” he whispered softly enough so that only Sweetheart would hear. “I love you.”

It's the *moments*, Lexi! For me, the *moments* make the process. I am not one to draw inspiration from songs, though if there are any songs that you felt resonated with the fic, I would be very excited to hear your thoughts!

This was a long-winded answer to your question, so thank you for indulging me.

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted fanfiction #redacted david #redacted davey #david shaw #redacted angel #redacted milo #milo greer #redacted sweetheart #thank you!#redacted power swap

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inkbeanjo · 8 months

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2, 3,4,5,6,7 for Moni and Retro on the character ask please. i love hearing about your characters

houuhghghjK i will do my best to answer retro's half, though i'll open with some behind the scenes that might shed some clarity on neo-a's weird existence in the real world.

Neo Automisia came about after I'd been playing Moni in a shadowrun living community for like 3 years, and after a point where i decided I wanted to break from that system's lore/canon out of desire to write my own shit and also out of disagreement with a lot of SR's writing- irl i've never really grown up in places or had the same friend groups for more than 3 years at a time, and my experience in making friends has been a series of meetings and farewells since I was little.

Ironically enough this's how a lot of my time playing Moni wound up being- games in the living community were sign-ups as opposed to set player groups and set tables you'd normally expect from a tabletop setting- think billboard with job postings kinda vibes, with things happening during/after/between jobs. As such, at least when it comes to fellow runners/key npcs, I'm doing my best to translate friends characters I've not gotten to really play with/hear from in years- or at least haven't had space TO do things with, life happens/things get busy etc etc you get it. Retro is OracleofMaya's wonderful gremlin, and a lot of my ability to write consistent/in-character dialogue for her comes from the fact that we talked/wrote a LOT over the years and i have an active crush on her/like writing stuff with her u///u

Long lead in over here we go:

It really depends on circumstances for the both of them- they're incredibly awkward and dealing with a lot of baggage individually/mutually, but with the right company they tend to light up. In Moni's case if worst comes to worst, she's anxious enough that even in bad company/bad circumstances she'll still titter out a giggle before realizing this isn't the time nor place.

[DATA EXPUNGED]

From my time playing alongside Retro, it never felt exactly an easy thing to earn her trust; partly due to the fact of her being a technomancer in a world that readily exploits and/or abuses them to the nth degree, and partly due to the fact that a lot of the people she and Moni worked with were either opportunistic or WAY too prone to oversharing critical information. Add [DATA EXPUNGED] to the mix and its really hard to blame her for shutting others down or out but again right company/right circumstances made all the difference in exceptions or changing that.

On Moni's end, her depression and various horribly negative experiences with people she loved or trusted have oriented her, for the most part, not to trust other people- or at least, that's the direction she tries to orient herself toward in some attempt to protect herself, and others from her. That obviously hasn't and doesn't work up to the current point in chapter 3, as Moni is basically an easily excitable puppy in a metahuman's shape.

In Retro's case, extremely- I have zero doubts that had Moni ever not kept self-vigilance up and spilled the beans regarding Retro being a technomancer, Retro WOULD have made good on that promise to fry her brain.

Distrust is fluid for Moni/liable to shift and change with circumstances and her mood- in this case I'm going to opt to make a slight shift and say that, with specific and wrong buttons pushed, it is very, very, very easy to earn a lethal grudge from Moni as opposed to solely distrust.

Both Moni and Retro are not only Nightrunning criminals for hire, but also staunch Anarchists living in the hellscape that is late stage capitalism and continued global warming/corporations having just about zero regulatory oversight or consequence placed on them. Laws on paper are not synonymous with justice or systemic equity, and both growing up in the fringes of the Seattle metroplex 100% plays into how they see the reality of how those laws actually play out in favor of the rich, powerful, and influential.

In the time I played with Oracle, Retro's nostalgia often times followed similar patterns to Moni if that tracks; both of them are rooted through warped sentimentalities and fractured memories for pasts they either can't fully remember, or remember in better contexts and through rose-tinted glasses than honestly- at least for a time. I don't wanna spoil too much in this regard, nor for the more positive ways they hold nostalgia for genuinely nice times/moments, so that's all I'm gonna say.

For Moni: 22. Jealousy is weird for Moni, because it's only really ever happened when Retro had started seeing/dating(?) a magical psychologist character of mine who has a hate boner against moni and vice versa. Moni herself is polyam, pan, and for the most part easygoing when it comes to interpersonal relationships; she doesn't really have explicit desire for material stuff barring cybernetics to cram into her meat suit, or good food tucked in the pockets and hole-in-the-wall joints of wherever she's living. Even in the case of the aforementioned psychologist, the jealousy stemmed more out of her overt fear of a mage who could root through, tweak, or otherwise puppet your brain like a marionette. 23. Envy is also weird- as mentioned the material things she does want are things she has zero problem waiting or saving for, and when it comes to relationships/the relationships of her partners and metamours she's open/patient. But a core piece of Moni I'm in the process of explicitly laying out/continuing to lay out is her absolute impulsiveness- the things that she DOES envy are immaterial and more abstract, in ways that to most would just sound like complete nonissues. It's something yet to be brought up, but Moni genuinely envies her peers and coworkers who have or are working toward a definite retirement plan, or have the intention TO retire because they have something in mind. For Moni at this point, she did not for one second in her career think about what retiring might look like or that she could/should- it was utterly foreign to be asked "what're you going to do after you're done running?", and to look inward only to find an answer along the lines of "what?". She envies people that have desires beyond what's immediately in front of them- not because they have it better, but because for all of her attempts to she can't figure out what she wants- no matter how hard she tries there's something missing that, to her at least, makes her feel like she was never supposed to be metahuman. This's one example but you get the gist, it's wanting to feel like you know where you're going and where you want to go/otherwise self actualize and feeling like you're drowning.

#neo automisia

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da-gamingojichan · 8 months

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Robooty's awezome itager sex fanfic (AIDS EDITION)

PREAMBLE: you all may know my hit fanfiction on the ao3.... but i mentioned in the tags theres an aids edition where practically all the dialogue has their accents completely horrible and inaccurately written out. the very last bits dont have that but its because I was fighting for my life against sickness and the school chromebook to finish the fic when i made it okay shit happened. ill link the ao3 version thats #normal and what you should read if ur gunna read this shit. but for the robootyling that begged me on mai blog to post the aids edition.... this is for you ❤️

LINK TO NORMAL ONE

PREAMBLE OVER. SEX COMMENCE!!!!!

Germany nervously thumbed the note cards in his hands as he awaited Italy's arrival. The man blushed as he skimmed over the contents he had copied down from The Beginner’s Guide To Sex For the Hard-Hearted German on said pieces of paper the night earlier. He shifted the note cards to face more inwards towards himself, despite the fact he was alone in the hotel room. And also that if anyone even were to steal the note cards it would take them at least five minutes to decipher what was written down in his microscopic neat handwriting. Nervously, he fiddled with the edge of the ski mask on his face.

Yes, he had a ski mask on his head for the past twenty minutes. Germany had realized that even thinking about the event to come made his entire face flush a noticeable red. He couldn’t even imagine how blushed he’d look during the actual activity itself and decided that sort of thing was much too shameful to show Italy, so he found a solution. Wearing a ski mask on his face would be the perfect fix to make sure his lover wouldn’t see all the blood in his body rushing to his head when it’s supposed to be going to his… vital regions.

He also realized that he would probably make all sorts of embarrassing sounds and maybe even get so overwhelmed he’d attack Italy by instinct once they got down to business. So to combat this he also procured a duffle bag that sat next to the bed with duct tape, rope, and a knife to cut both items with. The duct tape would be perfect to put over his mouth to make sure any strange sounds he would make would become inaudible, and the rope could be used if he felt that he might need to be restrained to protect his husband.

He also had a yak tranquilizer in there too.

Just in case y’know?

Sure it may be a bit strange, but Italy probably wouldn’t even find it noticeable after listening to Germany’s explanation and adjusting to it all. At least that’s what Austria said when he consulted him on the matter. Apparently he and Hungary did that sort of thing all the time or something.

The blonde country sighed as he tucked the notecards into his pocket and fiddled with his hands while listening to the clock tick by. He suddenly focused his eyes on said clock and squinted.

“Vait. Vat ze hell?,” he thought, “Zat clock iz vun quarter of unt second off! I must fix it!”

The country quickly stood up from where he was sitting at the edge of the bed and brought the clock down into his hands as started to tinker with it. He had momentarily worried about Italy arriving while he was adjusting the clock, but decided that it would be fine, he needed something to get his mind off of what they would be doing together once his husband arrived. Instead he decided to recount what had happened to bring him to the hotel room in the first place.

It all started two weeks prior on Germany and Italy’s anniversary. The German had as always agonizingly created a meticulous plan for Italy to ruin immediately. Although this year had been a surprise since the brunette ruined Germany’s plans not by his usual antics like flashing his dick in a restaurant and getting them kicked out or getting distracted by street cats a few too many times, rather he’d told Germany that he made their plans all by himself for a change.

Now Germany could have told Italy that he spent weeks creating the itinerary for the day already and would receive nothing but understanding sprinkled with bits of praise from the Italian for always being so prepared. But the moment he saw the earnest look in his husband’s eyes that showed he really did try his best making the plans for a change this time, all notions of following through with the reservations he had made flew out the window.

It was fine, sometimes sacrifices had to be made for the greater good, especially the greatest good which was accepting Italy’s displays of affections. No matter how frustrating or unpleasant or downright humiliating they could be at times. Besides, few canceled reservations was still infinitely better than the time the brunette uploaded on his official country of Italy account a post captioned “pasta in the shape of Germany’s anatomy” with a rather… uncouth, but delicious looking picture attached. Not to mention how Italy later begged the referenced country to reblog the photo onto his own official country account.

He did reblog it of course.

Anyways, Germany was rather excited to see what Italy had in store for him. Even though he knew the plans would not be as elaborate or well thought out as his own usually are, he still highly anticipated seeing what his husband prepared for him.

But how was he supposed to expect that after a day of a surprisingly well thought out and romantic anniversary date that the Italian planned to bed him?!

Like seriously! He had already mentally prepared himself for kissing and hand holding and possibly even a heavy make out session before snuggling in bed– but definitely not going all the way! Sure it might have been because it was specifically their hundredth anniversary they were celebrating, but that still is moving a bit fast isn’t it!?

The worst part was that the way the German realized that his husband wanted to have s… se…

…coitus. With Him.

Was when during their make out session the Italian palmed his lover’s dick firmly in his hand through the man’s pants only for Germany to suddenly suplex him out of sheer battle instincts.

The taller man quickly snapped out of it and helped Italy up before grabbing an ice pack from his fridge for his head. Forgetting completely about Italy copping a feel after effectively giving his husband a concussion on their anniversary night, he apologized profusely for the wrestling move as he asked if he was alright. The brunette was only slightly dazed since his brain was already so damaged that a hit like that barely did any harm to him at all. Yet he still stayed silent and kept his head lowered as tears began to pool into his eyes.

Germany started to panic, but before he could get a word out the shorter man lifted his head to make eye contact with him and asked with the seriousness of a man on death row, “Germany. Am I-a rizzless?”

The German did not know how to respond to that. He merely gaped at him for a moment before sputtering out, “V-Vhat are you talking avout? Of courze you have rizz!”

Italy bore his gaze into his lover’s eyes. “Then why… why…,” he trailed off.

“Why vhat?,” Germany asked, panic now replaced with confusion since he now knew the Italian wasn’t badly hurt.

Italy trembled as he brought his head back down before surging upwards and yelling at Germany with a hint of desperation, “WHY HAVE WE-A NEVA BANGED?! I KNOW YOU’RE NOT TE ASEXUAL JAHMANY! I’VE SEEN HOW YOU CUT OUT-A PICTURES OF MAH HEAD AND PASTE IT ONTO THE BOHDIES OF ALL THE PEOPLES IN YOUR PORN MAGAZINES! AM I-A JUST NOT YOUR BODY TYPE? ARE ANEMIC BOYS LIKE SWEETZERLAND MORE YOUR-A STYLE?”

Meanwhile, in a house far away from the two other countries, Switzerland sneezed.

“VHAT!?,” yelled the German, leaning back from his lover’s outburst, “VHAT ARE YOU TALKING AVOUT ITALY?!”

“ONE HUNDRED YEARS WE’VE-A BEEN MARRIED AND NEVER ONCE HAVE YOU EXPLAINED WHY WE DON’T GO PAST KISSING! AN ITALIAN LIKE-A ME CAN ONLY GO SO LONG WITHOUT ANY-A ACTION! I USED TO HAVE AT LEAST THREE GIRLS-A NIGHT! NOW I’VE BEEN OVER A HUNDRED YEARS ABSTINENT,“ Italy cried as he threw himself into Germany’s arms, “do you know how-a bad that is for someone like-a me? My soul is degrading Jahmany. MY SOUL! Is it-a because you don’t like my body? You told-a me about how you think of-a me during your monthly scheduled jack off sessions! Just tell-a me why Jahmany– why!”

Germany was stunned beyond words. Italy’s indecipherable speech was something that the man had become fluent in for years, but the Italian had spoken so quickly and frantically that even he had to take a moment to process what exactly had just spat out at him at rapid fire.

As the man fully processed what his husband rambled out a flush rose up his neck to the top of his head. He looked down at the teary eyed brunette snuggled in his chest and quickly proceeded with damage control.

“n-NO! Italy it’z not like zat at all!,” he quickly reassured, “u-uhm I love your body! It’s not displeazing to me at all! I especially vike how your torso haz vun arm on each side! And-and how ven you open your eyez I can see your vhites in zem! The reason we haven’t… done things… like zat yet is uhm… vell I haven’t exactly zhought ve’d be doing zhose activities anytime soon…”

He paused as he downcast his eyes, looking away from the brunette for a moment.

Before he decidedly gave out a long exhale and mumbled under his breath, “vut it’z not vike I don't VANT to…”

The Italian abruptly paused secretly motorboating Germany’s tits once he heard the man’s barely audible confession. In an instant, his tears receded into his eyes (in a very frankly disturbing manner, since tears should not be able to do that; you know how Hetalia’s animation budget gets sometimes) and he immediately looked up towards his lover as he broke into an excited grin.

“REALLY JAHMANY?! FOR-A REAL-SIES?!,” Italy shouted as he lunged towards the German’s face, “YOU WANNA █████████████████████ AND THEN ████████████████ TO YOUR-A █████████████ SO I ████████████████████████ THEN I █████████ ALL-A OVER YOU AND DON’T STOP EVEN WHEN YOU █████████ AND THEN-A WE BOTH █████████████████████████████!!!!!!”

Germany snapped his eyes back to look at the Italian as he sputtered from all the profane and lewd things his husband had just shoved into his mind to imagine. He could feel his head steaming as he made a few choked noises trying to figure out how to begin to respond to something like that until he finally gave up. He sighed in defeat before he averted his gaze again and hesitantly mumbled, “Ja.”

Italy immediately glomped the man as hard as he could, making Germany fall backwards slightly as he let out a startled yelp.

“OH JAHMANY I’M-A SO HAPPY! YOU’LL REALLY LIKE SEX JAHMANY I-A KNOW YOU WILL I’M REALLY REALLY REALLLYY GOOD AT IT! I-A MAY NOT BE ABLE TO FIGHT FOR SHIT BUT I-A DO KNOW MY WAY AROUND-A PERSON’S ASSHOLE! OR WELL– A PRETTY LADY’S ASSHOLE, BUT YOU’RE A PRETTY MAN AND-A EVERYONE HAS AN ASSHOLE SO I’M SURE IT’S-A BASICALLY THE SAME! I’M SO SO GLAD JAHMANY! I’M-A SO GLAD YOU DO WANT TO BANG AND I’M-A SO GLAD MY BEAUTIFUL BODY IS-A NOT JUST IRRESISTIBLE TO EVERY-A WOMAN ON PLANET EARTH, BUT ALSO IRRESISTIBLE TO YOU TOO!,” he excitedly rambled into his husband's ear, “EVEN WITH MY-A WEIRD PENIS!”

Germany instinctually reciprocated the hug and patted Italy’s back as his head tilted downwards into the other man’s shoulder.

“Ja Ja. I do,” he muttered with embarrassment tinging his voice, “even vith your… unique penis.”

Italy made a content “ve~” and further snuggled into the German’s hug. A silence stretched as they mutually enjoyed each other's embrace.

That is until Italy grabbed Germany’s balls again and got suplexed immediately.

Italy let out a surprised, “VE-” and Germany made a panicked noise as he immediately released the other man and picked him up to sit him down in his previous spot. The taller man fumbled to grab the previously discarded ice pack while his husband sat dazed for slightly longer than after the first suplex. He still came back to his senses astonishingly quickly though, since getting multiple concussions in one day was just another Tuesday for the Italian.

This time though, the blonde was the first one to speak.

“VAT ZE HELL VAS ZAT?!,” he angrily scolded, “VHY DID YOU DO ZAT?? I SUPLEXED YOU LITERALLY TWO MINUTES AGO FOR TOUCHING MEIN DEUTSCH BALLS!”

Italy let out a confused ve as Germany rubbed his head on the spot that hit the ground.

“B-but I-a thought you said you WANTED to-a get-a down and dahty with me Jahmany.”

“J-Ja I do!,” the German replied as he quickened the pace of his rubbing to distract himself from his rising embarrassment, “vut obviously I need unt time to prepare!”

He paused in contemplation for a moment.

“Vun month should be sufficient, " he concluded.

“VE?!” Italy yelled as he shot up out of the man’s hold, “DEADASS??”

Germany startled backwards from the outburst and replied in an agitated tone, “Yes “deadass”! How do you expvect me to read unt annotate ze whole Guide to Sex for Ze Hard Hearted German series in less time zan zat? Zere’s five books to study and-”

Germany was cut off by the shorter man putting his hands on his shoulders with a face that could only be described as radiating the sentiment of “this faggot cannot be serious right now”.

“Jahmany. Jahmany. Amore mio. Listen to me,” He gritted out as he opened his eyes, “You do not need to read five books to prepare for sex.”

Germany gaped at him for a moment, not because he opened his eyes while saying his statement, but because while saying it Italy had dropped his accent out of sheer exasperation.

“Vut… Vut what if I do it badly?,” he hesitantly protested, all the fight draining out of him after hearing his husband get so tired of his shit he became normal.

Italy continued to stare him directly into his eyes with an alarming seriousness, “Germany. You will not do badly. There is no conceivable way for you to disappoint me. I have jerked off to you twice a day for the past hundred years without fail– yes, even while I had pneumonia that one time. I’ve imagined literally every scenario possible with you. In fact there is no scenario I’ve imagined with you that I didn’t like at least a little bit too. There’s no physically possible way for me to not like banging you.”

Germany’s blush deepened as he listened to the brunette’s confession, his embarrassment only amplified from being pinned down by the other’s intense stare. He instinctually averted his eyes while he hung his head in a bit of shame as he started realizing maybe he was being the ridiculous one here.

The Italian’s eyes softened as they slipped back closed and he cupped his husband’s cheek into his hand to bring his face back to his own, “But you-a know that if you-a really are uncomfortable or scared or-a anything at all we don’t-a have to have sex okay?,” he began stroking his cheek gently with his thumb, “I-a just want you to-a know that there’s no part of me that doesn’t desire you. It’s-a completely okay if you don’t-a want to do that-a sort-a of thing now or even ever. Even if we-a start and you don’t-a want to keep-a going suddenly then-a we-a can stop anytime. I just know how-a shy you can be about things and how you sometimes worry about-a me too much, so I need-a to push you to let-a you-a know you shouldn’t be worried about-a my end.”

The blonde brought his hand up to Italy’s wrist that was holding his face and forced his eyes back to his lover’s face. Furrowing his brow a little bit from fighting against his instincts to look away again, he responded, “Vell… if you really are svure you are fine vith me being less zan properly prepared… ven I zink ve could arrange somevhing next veek…”

The shorter man brought his face closer to Germany’s, “Are you really sure?”

“Ja,” the German replied, fighting for his life against his embarrassment and autism to maintain eye contact.

Feeling his nerves about to get the best of him, he moved his head back and closed his eyes while he quickly added, “vut not ze ██████████████ und ze █████████████ and also ze ███████████!”

He turned his face away as he muttered, “At least not for now… Zat’s vay too much for ze firvst time! And also ESPECIALLY not ze ███████████ too okay?!”

Italy had proceeded to pull him into a kiss and murmured something about how cute he was as he decided to continue what they left off at in their make-out session twenty minutes ago.

Afterwards while cuddling they both agreed to book a hotel room the next Saturday for their highly anticipated activities together and thus, led Germany to where he was now. Now having finished fixing and placing back the clock, he occupied himself by rummaging through the various items in the cabinets to see where the hotel bible was to read a few verses from it.

He was snapped out of his focus when suddenly, he heard a shriek from behind him and swiftly turned towards the source of the sound.

There he saw a teary eyed Italy quite literally shaking in his boots.

“AHHHHH!!!!! INTRUDER ALERT INTRUDER ALERT WHERES-A GERMANY?!,” Italy screamed as his eyes darted around the room and caught on the open duffle bag, seeing the tape and rope within it, “OH-A MY GOD HE’S TRYING TO-A HARVEST OUR ORGANS OR-A SELL US ON THE-A BLACK MARKET AHHHHHH!!! WHAT HAVE YOU-A DONE TO-A JAHMANY?!”

Germany, realizing that Italy could not recognize him with his ski mask on, quickly strode over to the man to reassure him that there was no intruder that was trying to hate crime them. Unfortunately in his panic it did not occur to him to remove his mask making the Italian only freak out harder.

The brunette immediately made a move to bolt away once he saw the other man start striding towards him, but was caught in the intruder’s arms and struggled to get away as if he was going to be forced to pay his bill at a restaurant. After about five seconds he gave up and pulled out two white flags seemingly out of nowhere and got to doing what he does best, acting like a total pussy.

“PLEASE-A LET ME GO YOU WON’T-A LIKE-A MY ORGANS–THEY’RE FULL OF-A PASTA AND WINE AND JAHMANY’S NASTY WAR BREAD WHICH IS-A CALLED STOLLEN BUT-A DON’T TELL HIM-A THAT I-A CALLED IT THAT BECAUSE I-A LIED AND TOLD HIM I-A LOVED IT WHEN IT-A TASTED REALLY REALLY REALLY BAD– LIKE SUPER DUPER BAD IT-A WAS HARD AND HAD-A NASTY DRIED FRUITS IN IT BUT I-A COULDN’T BREAK HIS HEART AND-A TELL HIM THAT AND ENDED UP HAVING TO-A EAT A WHOLE LOT OF IT– THE THINGS I-A DO FOR LOVE AM I-A RIGHT? SEE I’VE-A HAD A HARD LIFE Y’KNOW SO PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DON’T HURT MEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!,” he rambled while waving his white flags furiously.

Italy felt the grip on him soften as the masked man deflated and in a broken hearted voice said, “Italy… you lied avout viking mein schtollen? Vhy… Vhy did you lie to me…”

“G-germany?,” Italy asked himself as he dropped his white flags to take off the man’s mask, revealing a disillusioned Germany.

He made a startled yell of surprise realizing what he just confessed to the man.

“I-I DIDN’T-A MEAN IT IN THAT-A WAY JAHMANY!!,” he tried to reassure, “YOU-A KNOW I SAY SOME CRAZY THINGS WHEN I’M IN-A TROUBLE–”

He saw that his words were having no impact on his lover’s deflated mood and quickly changed the subject, “UHM! ANYWAYS– I’M-A REALLY GLAD YOU’RE NOT-A SCARY INTRUDER JAHMANY AND YOU DIDN’T-A GET CUT OPEN OR-A SOLD ON THE BLACK MARKET!”

Italy continued rambling about how happy he was that neither of them were going to become meat pies as he untangled himself from Germany's hold and took him by the hand back into the hotel room. He closed the door behind them and led them to the bed.

“Why were you-a wearing such-a scary thing anyways Jahmany?,” Italy asked while holding the ski mask out in front of him as they sat down on the mattress, “and what’s with all the stuff in the duffle bag? I-a thought you didn’t-a want to do anything kinky this-a time?”

Germany, having already forgiven Italy as usual, explained in an increasingly flustered manner his reasoning for the mask and the items in his bag, especially the yak tranquilizer. As the explanation went on Italy’s face went from confused into falling in a grimace-like smile.

“... so zats vhy I prepared all zese zings. Again, I’m sorry vor startling you earlier,” the taller man concluded. He reached to take the ski mask back only for it to be jerked away from him by the Italian.

“Jahmany,” Italy started with tight smile, “thank you for all-a these-a wonderful preparations. But I-a think we won’t-a need these things at-a all. Especially not-a the ski mask. Just-a trust me okay?”

The blonde knit his brows togethers in confusion thinking that Italy surely should have understood why his preparations were needed after his thirty minute explanation. Well, in daily life Italy did have trouble following a line of logic in general so it isn’t too surprising that he was struggling to become agreeable now too.

“Let me explain it to you again zen Italy, so-,” Germany started only to be cut off from Italy lunging himself on top of him, effectively pinning him to the bed kabedon style.

There was no fucking way Italy was going to listen to that thirty minute schpiel again. It was already 10 PM at night and he knew Germany was going to make them get up at 5 AM the next morning to run a few laps to satisfy his autistic need for schedule. He had to get things moving or else he’d be dead in the water with no sleep and no Germussy.

The brunette brought his face close to his lover’s ear and he whispered, “Jahmany, you know I find that-a worrywort side of you-a cute too, but right-a now let me take-a the lead alright?”

For emphasis he proceeded to place a chaste kiss on the back of his husband’s jaw.

Germany’s ears began to burn from the blood rushing to them. In all these years he never could get used to the feeling of the Italian’s lips on his skin. He fumbled trying to formulate a proper response to the man’s compliment and interruption, ending up uttering out, “Ja– y-you too.”

Italy took this as his greenlight to start attacking the man’s face with his own.

Before Germany could overthink about his failure of a response, he felt his husband’s lips press firmly to his.

The shorter man laced their fingers together as he pinned the German’s hands above his head on the bed. Knowing his lover was the type who would always forget to breathe through his nose (it was alright, at least he finally stopped keeping his eyes open while smooching), he broke the kiss before diving back down with more fervor. He swiped his tongue against the bottom lip of the man below him, asking for permission to enter his mouth. As always, his husband obliged and parted his lips modestly.

Germany always thought that feeling a tongue explore his mouth felt a bit weird at first. And in general the act was pretty unsanitary which wasn’t very pleasant either. But when he thought about how the kind of strange tasting tongue in his mouth was his beloved Italy’s, that alone was enough to make the experience enjoyable and start getting him heated up.

The blonde let out a few embarrassed sounds as Italy hummed in content against him before pulling away to see how the other was faring.

He was moving faster than usual since they had bigger fish to fry soon, but was pleased to see that the man below him was doing pretty well. Germany’s face was tickled pink as he panted heavily from, as usual, not breathing through his nose at all. He looked up at Italy in expectation as he unconsciously pursed his lips a bit in an attempt to get rid of the excessive saliva on the corner of his mouth.

The Italian, in an act of true chivalry, kissed the corner of his husband’s mouth to get rid of the excess spit and then began to trail kisses down his jaw and to the wide expanse of his neck.

Instinctually, the taller man craned his neck to give his lover a better angle to nip and nibble at him, but also gave a small protest of surprise, “vait Italy– usually ve–ah! Spend m-more time… mm… k-kissing don’t ve?”

The man paused his assault and lifted his head from the crook of the blonde’s neck.

“Well we have-a lot of-a things to do Jahmany! This-a time kissing isn’t our-a main-a course after all,” Italy replied, soaking in his husband’s flustered disposition to stop himself from diving back in to continue eating away at him.

“Zat iz true… but uhm…,” Germany averted his gaze and mumbled, “kissing iz mein favorite part… so uhm.. c-could we– do that a little more..”

Italy, in all honesty, had never been more aroused in his entire life.

Germany always had a habit of being overly considerate in their relationship in general and the Italian knew that when he didn’t ask for something it wasn’t that he didn’t care, it was just that he didn’t want to be pushy. Especially when it came to romance. So to hear him meekly request for something as sweet as a few more kisses– how could he deny him?

Italy smiled and let go of the blonde’s hands to cup his face and neck as he sweetly maneuvered his mouth to other’s for a little while longer. During which Germany found his arms settling wrapped around his lover’s torso.

As Italy pulled away he brought himself back to the man’s neck and reassured him, “don’t-a worry Jahmany, we’ll still be able to kiss-a later too,” finishing his statement with a chaste kiss behind his ear.

Germany only hugged his lover tighter as Italy resumed sucking dark hickies into his pale skin. He let out little yelps every time the brunette bit down on him and whimpered as the man licked away the marks apologetically afterwards.

“Ah—ah, Italien…,” the German mewled, into the crook of the brunette’s neck, “I- mm… I love you…”

“I-a love you too Germania,” the shorter man breathed into the other man’s skin only to feel him immediately tense up.

Germany swiftly moved his hands to his husband’s shoulder and pushed him away to make eye contact in a deathly serious fashion.

“Italy,” he said while looking him dead in the eye, “do not call me Germania.”

The Italian was startled by such a reaction and blurted out, “wh– why?” with an incredulous look on his face.

“That’s the name of my grandfather.”

Fuck.

Both men did not know how to proceed with their intimate moment together after an interruption like that.

Luckily, before Italy could make a stupid joke that would inevitably downward spiral into them sleeping in bed with awkward half boners together he remembered that in his pocket he had a small charm gifted to him by England. It was given to him as an aid in case something went wrong during his and Germany’s night together. Thank god for him going to England for that fortune telling beforehand!

He immediately pulled out the charm and threw it on the ground before Germany could react and a large poof of smoke surrounded him. As the smoke dissipated he realized he was in the same position he was in before he called his husband by his grandfather’s name.

“Ah—ah Italien…,” the German mewled, into the crook of the brunette’s neck, “I- mm… I love you…”

This time, a much wiser Italy breathed into his skin, “I-a love-a you too Germany” and he felt his lover bury his face deeper into his neck.

Hey guys so this is the part where you read a sex scene written by a guy who has never held hands with someone in his entire life

Through their close embrace, both men could feel the other beginning to harden through their clothes. But this time was different, since for once the two men would be able to do something about their soon to be full mast dicks and that thought alone excited them both further.

Now kissing Germany’s neck less aggressively with only slow, closed mouth presses to his skin, Italy moved his hands and began to unbutton his husband’s collared shirt. He trailed his sappy smooches down to the man’s vast chest that he was oh so familiar with. Shifting his hands to cup the German’s pecs he huffed in displeasure as he felt they were hard and flexed. The brunette rested his face in between his lover’s pecs and looked up at him with the best puppy eyes he could muster.

“Relax for me Jahmany, I-a like them when they’re soft,” he requested, still cupping the hard masses in his palms.

The taller man closed his eyes and muttered out a hesitant, “ja ja” as he willed his muscles to untense. The Italian made a pleased noise as he squished the man’s large pecs in his hands. Truely, a delight better than any girl could provide, he thought to himself.

He experimentally moved his thumbs to push on the other man’s nipples and felt the blonde’s pecs instantly harden once again.

Germany instinctually hugged him much tighter, causing the Italian’s body to press up firmly against his as he let out a surprised “ah!” and inquired, “V-Vhat do you zink you’re doing” through squinted eyes.

“I’m-a playing with your chest Jahmany,” the Italian replied in a cheeky tone, as he proceeded to continue gently messing around with his husband’s pink nubs.

“Ja… vut– nngh you’ve never done somezing vike– ah- zhis b—before,”

“Do you-a like it?”

“It- mmm feels… vierd.. I don’t know if– if it’z ze good… vierd,” the German replied, scrunching together his brows as he consciously loosened his grip on his lover to make sure to not hurt him.

Italy hummed in acknowledgement. It didn’t appear that his lover’s boner was getting any stiffer as he continued playing with his chest. So after a few moments he decided to hell with it and asked, “how does-a this feel then?” before he proceeded to roughly grind his thigh directly into Germany’s crotch.

He instantly felt his husband’s thighs squeeze around his leg as the German threw his head back; hand clamping over his own mouth to suppress the moan that erupted from him. His back arched as his body shuddered. Italy was momentarily concerned that his lover just prematurely ejaculated, but also thought to himself that it would still be kinda cute if he did. Luckily, he knew the man didn’t as he felt Germany unconsciously rock himself slightly against his thigh, searching for more pleasure.

The blonde reached down to grab at Italy’s thigh between his legs before jerking his hand away and choosing to modestly grip at the sheets near their lower regions instead.

“I–ah I vike it–,” he stuttered as he brought his head back forward to face the Italian, face burning red and eyes tightly shut, “I–I vike it down zhere, ah–”

Well then. If the man says he likes it down there then Italy supposes he could sacrifice the rest of the boobies time to indulge him.

Nevermind how Italy could physically feel the blood in his body rushing towards his vital regions after seeing a reaction like that.

The shorter man continued unbuttoning the rest of his husband’s shirt as he trailed kisses down his torso, slowly grinding his leg into the man’s crotch to keep him from becoming impatient. Germany gripped the sheets tighter as he let out a string of “ah”s with every rocking motion. Unconsciously, he tried to speed up the pace, but Italy held his hips firmly in place.

Once the Italian had finished releasing the bottom and final button of the other man’s shirt, he quickly unbuckled his lover’s belt as well and stripped the man of his pants and underwear in one go. Germany let out a squeak in surprise and wanted to kill himself for making such a shameful sound. That was until he felt the cool air hit his now fully hardened dick and realized Italy was staring right at it, now he wanted to double kill himself.

“D—don’t just stare right at it!,” he scolded while curling his legs inwards and covering said regions with both hands.

The brunette let out a confused ve, “ehhhh? why? I-a literally stare directly at it every time we-a go to the public baths with Japan. I already-a know what you’re-a packing”.

“That’s true but!-- Right now ze situation iz all different okay?!,” The German protested, “It’z not ze same vhen I know you actually vant to get— erm– i-intimate vith me!! Just vike how zis is different than all zhose times you made me zit next to you vhile you masturbated at night because you vere scared of ze dark! It’z not vike you vere masturbating thinking of ME!”

Italy decided to refrain mentioning how all those times he WAS masturbating thinking about Germany actually. The entire masturbating “scared of the dark” thing was an Italian way of flirting even, but that would be an explanation for another time. Instead he bent down and gently pried back open the blonde’s legs causing the blonde to let out another “eep” in protest.

“But you’re so pretty Germany,” he replied, pushing his lover back down with his hand as the other caressed the man’s thigh, “can’t I have a looksie at my husband?”

He didn’t dare let out the urge he felt to giggle when he saw Germany’s hard on twitch a little at the praise. The blonde didn’t respond verbally, but allowed his lover to continue his ministrations with no resistance as he buried his face into the pillow next to him to hide his shame.

He’s so easy, it’s adorable. Italy thought to himself.

He continued to massage out little whimpers as he caressed the man’s legs while unbuttoning his own shirt. He decided that tonight he wouldn’t force Germany to strip him back. Since even as adorable as it would be to see his husband awkwardly fumble with his clothing and somehow turn even more flustered from being teased, he himself was getting a little impatient and wanted to get to sloppy sex already.

He briefly stopped his ministrations for a moment to peel the shirt off himself and toss it to the side. Despite how much he wished he could see the blonde’s expression right now, he was a little grateful that the man still had his face buried in the pillow next to him, since half of him was worried that he would make Italy pause and fold his shirt if he saw him throw it to the side.

Germany lifted his head from the pillow after noticing that the massaging had come to a stop only to throw it back once again with an arched back when Italy began nipping at his inner thighs.

The blonde yelped and clenched the bed sheets beside him as he felt his husband wrap his hands around his cock, whispering sweet nothings into his soft flesh, “ha–AH!-”

“Ah— ahn– neughh–,” he moaned ungracefully as he felt the Italian play with the tip a bit with his thumb.

“Mio prezioso, are you-a ready to have your first blowjob?,” Italy asked as he kept the German’s legs spread with one hand while bringing his face closer to the member in his other palm.

Unfortunately, he never made contact. Right before his mouth touched the tip he heard Germany let out a high pitched cry and the penis in front of him sprayed him directly in the face with semen.

Both men went still for a moment, until Italy brought his fingers to his face and then brought them to his mouth to have a taste of the sticky white substance.

Watching Italy begin to taste his cum snapped Germany out of his trance and he immediately wretched the brunette's hand away from his mouth yelling, “ITALY DO NOT EAT ZAT!!!”

The Italian pulled his hand back, “no, no wait-a minute Jahmany.”

He scooped some more onto his index finger and placed it in his mouth for a moment, really contemplating the flavor this time. “Hey this actually tastes-a pretty good! Like not-a spread it on your toast everyday level-a good, but better than those-a nasty sausages you-a gave me that one time we pinky promised to be-a best friends forever! Do you think it’s-a because we’re countries?”

Germany was about to ask Italy what the hell was wrong with him until the weight of how he just not only prematurely ejaculated, but also prematurely ejaculated all over his husband’s face set in.

Oh mein gott what is wrong with ME? He thought to himself as a horrified expression crept in his features.

Italy, sensing the blonde’s mood change quickly grabbed his wrists before he could put his hands on his face and go full “I wish I was never born” on him.

“Hey-hey Jahmany! Don’t-a worry about creaming on-a my face! You know I honestly kinda like it–I just-a told you that you taste like-a solid 6/10 yummy!,” Italy rambled out, jerking the other man’s wrists around in lue of his usual hand gestures, “And it’s-a fine that you finished-a teensy bit early! It’s-a your first time you know? If-a anything, honestly I think it’s-a really cute! Lookit me I’m-a even harder than before!”

He looked down at his own tented pants to encourage his husband to do the same. In his peripheral vision he spotted a wonderful sight though.

His eyes trailed over to Germany’s penis that was still erect as ever, even after finishing once.

Germany had told him before that he could schedule his monthly masturbation time block since he knew that he was only physically capable of finishing one time. Despite being one of the youngest countries, he had the stamina of a grandfather and told the shorter man that it was simply impossible for him to do more than one round.

Italy knew his husband was not the type who would lie to him, so him still being erect in the current moment must be a very new and unexpected development. That much he could conclude from how also Germany seemed just as shocked as he was about his little guy still fighting strong.

In his head, the brunette gave a prayer thanking God for always being so gracious to him and promising to start attending church again. Once he finished he lunged back on top of the taller man, knocking him back over and under him and whispered in his ear, “Jahmany, if it’s-a okay with you, do you-a mind letting me-a take care of that for you?”

Still reeling from the mountains of shame he felt for finishing too quickly earlier he protested, “nein! V–vhat about yourself?! If anyzing I should be ze one taking care of you!”

He internally cursed himself for not studying the book series harder. He would say to hell with it and try taking the wheel, but flashbacks of buon san valentino flashed in his mind and he lost all confidence in himself. One book studied was not enough for then, so only one book studied for now definitely wouldn’t be enough to maneuver through this.

Italy felt his heart squeeze a little and kissed Germany’s cheek as he reassured him, “you’re so sweet mio tesoro. I love that considerate side to you, but don’t worry Jahmany, I’ll take care of both of us this time.”

“V-vut–”

“Trust me,” The Italian requested as he pulled himself up and grabbed a bottle of lube from the bedside counter, “what I-a have in mind will-a definately feel good for-a both of us thanks to-a my technique.”

The German watched as his husband poured a generous amount of the substance on his fingers, fully realizing what the man was alluding to.

“Now-a my Germany, will you-a spread your legs for me please?,” the shorter man asked with a smile.

The taller man felt his face begin to steam again and coyly opened his legs. He glanced back and forth between his lover and the wall until he closed his eyes and muttered, “be gentle… okay?”

Italy almost couldn’t contain himself from how cute his husband could be. He circled his middle finger around the rim of the blonde’s hole as he leaned over to his face and planted a gentle kiss. He reassured him, “don’t worry, just tell me if somethings wrong” as he slowly plunged the finger inside of him.

The taller man squirmed in discomfort and the Italian planted gentle kisses along his neck to soothe him.

“Is it-a alright? How does it-a feel?”

“It’z… vierd… it doesn’t hurt zhough…mmnn.. you can move…”

Gently as promised, Italy slowly plunged in and out with his lubed up middle finger, feeling the warm interiors of his husband. Soft squelches resonated within the room.

“...Italy… I zink I’m ready for anothzer vun…,” Germany mumbled as he became used to the intrusion.

He only squirmed a little bit when the second finger entered him. This time he quickly found himself becoming accustomed to the sensation and asked for another. He was about to mentally congratulate himself for adapting so quickly, but stopped himself once he realized he was about to feel proud of being able to get used to being fingered quickly.

The blonde felt a slight burn when the third heavily lubed finger entered him and let out a small, “ah—ah-”. He wrapped his arms around his husband and whined into his neck. Italy gently shushed him and continued soothing him with kisses and praise as he carefully stretched the German open.

He gently scissored the man’s hole as he went in and out, searching for his lover’s prostate.

Germany in all honesty was getting a bit tired, since the sensation wasn’t exactly unpleasant, but it didn’t really feel good either. He had practiced on his own before for Italy, but he couldn’t figure out how to make it feel like much else than just fingers in his ass. Plus the rim of his hole was starting to burn from the fingers going in and out. But it did feel good to know that Italy was going to feel really good soon, and that part did keep him turned on and hard.

Suddenly, Italy’s fingers touched a certain spot and he felt as though a flash of lightning struck through him. He let out a loud moan as he white knuckled the sheets and forced his legs not to clench together.

Italy’s face lit up and he happily cheered, “Jahmany! Jahmany I finally found your prostate! I bet that-a felt really good didn’t it!!” He removed his fingers with a shlick and poured a generous amount of lube on his own dick that was now so hard it was almost painful.

“J… Ja.. zat did feel good,” Germany uttered in response, feeling a bit empty without the fingers.

“I’m glad Jahmany! After all, I want-a this to feel good for you too.”

The shorter man lined himself up against his husband’s hole and leaned the rest of his body down to meet their faces together.

“Jahmany, are you-a ready?”

“J—Ja, I trust you Italien,” Germany replied, meeting his eyes to show that he was serious with no doubts.

Italy smiled and leaned down to sweetly kiss the man below him as he slowly entered.

Germany wrapped his arms tighter around Italy as he carefully went deeper and deeper, a low burn growing from the intrusion. The blonde let out little “ah”s as Italy reminded him to relax and soothed him by running his hands down the man’s sides until he was fully inside him.

They paused for a moment to let the taller man adjust a bit to the member stuck inside him.

After a minute or so of Germany squirming and Italy fighting for his life not to bust a nut instantly, the taller man muttered, “I’m okay now… you can move Italy.”

Italy grit his eyes closed as he slowly moved in and out. Germany was tight– freaking too tight even– holy shit. Italy thought about making a joke about how he didn’t expect to get circumcised this way, but held himself back knowing it would ruin the mood. Instead he whispered in his husband’s ear, “Cuore mio, relax for me. It's alright, you can do this, just relax.”

“Of.. of course Italy”

He felt the taller man bury his face into the brunette’s neck as he slowly softened around him, still on the tight side, but at least it wasn’t a gorilla grip anymore.

Italy set back on his steady, slow pace. Each thrust eliciting a little moan from the man beneath him. He kept at it for a bit, trying to figure out what angle to thrust at to hit the man’s prostate once again until he did a thrust and felt the blonde clench harshly around him, arching his back as he did so.

Now having confidence in knowing where to hit, he quickened his pace and aimed towards that same spot. “You’re so good for me Germany, you know that?”

Germany’s face steamed even hotter somehow. “Ah, Italien— ah— mmm— mmmphh–,” he covered his mouth to muffle his moans that came spilling out uncontrollably.

“Jahmany don’t deprive me, I want to hear all the cute sounds you make,” Italy panted as he snatched the German’s hands away from his mouth.

“Good boy, good boy.”

He kissed the man once again as he continued to pick up the pace, whispering sweet words of praise into his husband’s ear.

The taller man whimpered and tears pricked his eyes as he arched his back. The Italian moved his hands to the German’s hips to get better leverage, while his husband hugged his legs and arms around Italy.

“Ah, ah, I love you– I love you Italy–,” Germany babbled into Italy’s shoulder, “I-I really love you– Ich liebe d—dich!-”

The shorter man knew his lover liked kissing best, but how could he expect Italy to kiss him when he kept saying these kinds of cute things when he didn’t?

“Anch'io ti amo Jahmany– ti amo tanto!,” he replied, feeling himself hitting the edge soon.

He needed to wrap things up soon, so he let go of his husband’s hip with the hand still slippery from lube and used that to start stroking the blonde’s cock vigorously.

“Ah– AH! Nuugh– that– that feels— Ah! r—really.. G-good—,” Germany mewled, “I– I feel —Ah, ah, s-something— build.. ngh— ing up–! I— ah– Ah– I think–”

“Do you– you hah— think you’re going to come?”

Italy picked up his pace, both stroking his dick and slamming into him.

“Then come for me Germany”

Germany spasmed and let out a broken string of moans as he came. He hugged Italy tight and the brunette could feel his walls clenching around him, bringing the shorter man over the brink as well with a loud groan.

He pumped into the man below him a few more times, riding out his orgasm as Germany whimpered from becoming a little overstimulated.

He pulled out slowly, before collapsing on top of his lover and instinctually burying his face into the man’s tits.

Both of them lay panting for a moment, as Italy maneuvered himself to lay next to his lover, and gathered him up in a hug that Germany weakly reciprocated.

“Well, Germany, what did you think of your first time having sex?,” Italy inquired.

Germany, now becoming fully lucid again, first realized how sweaty and sticky he felt, thus he replied, “Sticky.”

He thought for a little bit longer.

“But I also admit it was good. Even if I acted a bit shamefully…,” he lowered his eyes and averted his gaze.

Italy laughed and only hugged his husband tighter.

The blonde felt discomfort from the two warm and sweaty bodies pressing up against each other even closer, but nevertheless hugged his lover back because even though his body felt warm, his heart felt warm too. His body also felt kinda sore. Maybe even a lot sore. Actually he might have to rethink his 5 AM jogging laps with the condition his body was currently in.

But that was still fine too, since he probably would’ve only done a quarter of his laps anyways since Italy would be with him and get distracted by a cat or something.

For now, he settled with snuggling into Italy’s arms and began to doze off to sleep, exhausted from their activities.

That is until he felt the Italian bolt up after five minutes and shake his shoulder asking, “hey Germany wanna go for round two?”

#-fic #-germany #-hetalia #-itager #-italy #-yaoi #sorry the sex parts themselves honestly suck ass #i didnt write them good because you can tell i got shy and embarassed #i was too shy. gommene next time ill write them better 🙏

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fearowkenya · 1 year

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okami is still the gift that keeps on giving. when i last cleared the entire game i was like "ok this time for SURE i have seen the whole thing and all of its secrets" but no. in THIS playthrough ALONE, ive learned:

you can make friendly fire happen between two enemies; not ALL of them, but it works on imps at the very least

using trees in combat actually does damage some enemies a fair amount! i actually think it interrupts some attacks but i have to experiment more

using a cherry bomb on an npc outside of combat is EXTREMELY FUNNY, particularly on imps

ringing the epicurean bell BEFORE orochi's appetizer is ready spawns a blue scroll

someday i might make a video about 'okami secrets' but honestly idk how many of them are all that hard to figure out. because of how many times ive played this game idk what things are or arent considered obscure. anyway, here are some of my favs

if you power slash heaps of snow in kamui, youll sometimes get snow sculptures of certain characters

How The Sun And Moon Techniques Actually Work (this ones more of a theory, if u care to find out, it's below)

you can smear ink on enemies to get them to flail around and farm demon fangs off of them with the reflector sub-weapon counter

drawing a circle around npcs makes most of them run over to pet ammy

that previous thing notably does NOT work on waka , but it still consumes ink and plays the sound effect as though it DID work. i LOVE that because it implies to me that waka DOES feel a pull to go pet ammy like the rest of the npcs, but is capable of resisting it

you can't headbutt waka! he sorta shimmers and evades you and you can never hit him.

you can find the real raos skeleton in the tunnel that connects the palace in sei-an to ankoku shrine

theres SO MUCH specific dialogue that youd have to actively seek out in order to see. for instance, everyone in kamiki village has unique dialogue if you talk to them while susano is on your back instead of taking him directly to the rock at the village entrance

OH I JUST REMEMBERED; if you draw a circle around any of the wep'keer villagers, instead of running to pet you they will shift into their wolf forms.

okami good. and like...this game came out in 2006. could you fucking IMAGINE how much neat stuff could be possible if they made a Actual Sequel with modern game engines. capcom . im looming behind you capcom do you fucking hear me are you listening capcom im

ALSO theres a lot of stuff that had me wheezing in confused fear during my last full playthrough. a lot of it pertains to lechku & netchku and the events surrounding their fight. like i have reason to believe that the intro legend about shiranui and orochi is wrong, but im not gonna make a post about it until ive gone through and played the whole game again, paying particularly close attention to the past-kamiki and ezofuji segments

ok im elaborating on how the sun and moon techniques actually work, as i understand them

i was halfway through writing up a thing about how these techniques don't actually let you control the position of the sun and the moon, and instead just changes the time. but then i remembered that no actually thats not true, since a lot of puzzles require you to have the sun or moon shining on a specific thing !! so in that case YES you are changing the position of the sun/moon. also the mechanic is LITERALLY you drawing the sun and moon in the sky so what the hell was i even talking about.

yes, without a doubt, ammy can control the position of the damn sun or moon as she sees fit, which affects the amount of light on the planet and changes the "time" to "day" or "night". the reason time is in quotes there is because if you are UNIQUELY changing the position of the sun/moon, the flow of time would be unchanged. unless you are looking at a sundial, man-made clocks WOULD NOT change if the sun was suddenly in a different place.

BUT WAIT! if you go to sei-an city and stand somewhere so that you can see the clocktower, then use the sun/moon technique, the hands on the clocktower start to move REALLY FAST until they correspond to the time that reflects the technique you used. which means that ammy changing the position of the sun/moon DOES affect the literal flow of time*.

heres the (in-universe) theory part: i think that the sun/moon brush skills at their core are techniques that let ammy control the flow of time by using the place she draws them as a reference point. i think if she wanted to, she could kinda 'scrub' through time the same way you would for a recorded video, but drawing the sun and moon is just easier, faster, and more fun.

im doubling down on this idea because in the beginning of the game when you first get out of the tutorial zone and into kamiki, there's no sun, no stars, no moon, nothing. all of the villagers are statues. i think that orochi's revival caused time to stop, which would explain why drawing the sun is what fixed the problem. by drawing the sun, ammy re-established the flow of time and got it moving again. im willing to bet that the moon technique would have worked just as well, but at that point in the game you obviously dont have access to it

now that i think of it, there are a few more brush techniques that you could argue are time-based. im less confident about those , so i'll list them but refrain from elaborating for now because it would require me to double check some stuff and i dont want to do that right now. also id be here for HOURS. anyway , other than the mist technique, the ones that i think COULD have something to do with messing with time are rejuvination and bloom. *as a side note, im pretty sure when you change from night->day or day->night it moves time forward, but im not sure what it does when you use sun/moon techniques to "reset" the current part of the day.

for instance, when im running around an area looking for stray beads and treasure, theres lights that shine on the spots youre supposed to dig, but only at night. instead of waiting for daybreak , when i hear the owl noise that happens like halfway through the night, i use the moon technique to "reset" the night back to the start. i started doing this because when i was a kid i saw that when you change the time of day , the villagers go "?????" and i felt bad for confusing them. i digress.

i'd be curious to find out since the game keep tracks of how many "days" (day/night cycles) it takes you to complete the game. i want to know if "extending" the night/day moves the "clock" an entire day ahead, or if it moves it back to the start of that original day/night. i can't remember off the top of my head if the number of days affects your overall score for the entire game, but i imagine it doesnt (or if it does, not by much) because of how often you need to be using sun/moon tech to solve puzzles.

#mattie chatters

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syncopation53 · 1 year

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Overall I think lightfall felt about the same as beyond light for me, maybe a little bit less so without eramis’ lore and the lack of (narrative) conflict when it comes to strand like stasis had. I know that we’re moving beyond the “light good, darkness bad” dogma, as drifter puts it, and it’s been three years at this point since stasis has been introduced and we’ve had time to get used to it, plus the fact that strand is more of a… I want to say “neutral force” than stasis, which had been an explicit gift from the witness as we now know. I’ve seen how it almost feels disjointed from the overall narrative, and I can sort of see where people are coming from. The missions with the meditation place and vex network almost seemed like adventures rather than a part of the campaign itself, which is a shame. I can see where they were going for the “secret power that the bad guys don’t know about but is hard to master so we only use it in Important Scenes and have a training montage about it,” but that’s me filling in the blanks after the fact, not an actual thought I had while running the campaign. I found osiris and ghost’s dialogue about the whole “perspective shift” thing to be laughable because I’d been doing the exact same things with strand I’d been doing from the beginning. There was no perspective shift for me just incessant banging on bungie’s door yelling to let me unlock strand in full already. Will be interested in getting more lore on the nature of darkness-based powers vs. light-based ones in the future. As you can tell by my recent posts, the ending was the true best thing story-wise. I felt completely dead inside after that 10/10 will be crying myself to sleep thinking oc thoughts for the next week.

The story was… alright, I’ll say. Somehow bungie made it feel like nothing was happening and simultaneously everything happened all at once. Definitely felt like I missed some stuff in my race to get to softcap so that the tormentors wouldn’t eat me for breakfast but I’ll definitely be doing the campaign again in full on my hunter to see if there’s anything I didn’t catch the first time. Titan… eh, I’m not usually a fan of video game microtransactions but if it’ll let me skip right to strand titan a bitch might just buy some silver.

I will say, I’ve never been a fan of calus’ lore. I didn’t actively dislike him or the cabal/uluran as a whole, and he is an interesting character in his own right, but I just never felt that personally interested in learning more about them like I had the hive and eliksni. However comma, his cutscenes with the witness were some of the highlights of the campaign for me. They carried, as the kids say. The other part being helmet-less cutscenes for lots of pretty screenshots of xira. Osiris was also a highlight for me. His character felt more in-line with that from curse of osiris than any other season I’ve played before (I know season of dawn was a huge hit but I’d been away for college at the time and thus couldn’t play for a while so I’m not familiar with the osiris lore from that). I liked his growth from pushing the guardian to master strand and getting frustrated when we failed to helping us hone our abilities and being proud and excited when we succeeded.

I’ll also throw in my two cents into the Nimbus Discourse as a non-binary person: they were fun. I liked them. I like that they’re not a 100% perfectly androgynous anime prettyboy and I know that’s caused people to misgender them but I enjoy their design overall. I can understand being annoyed with the voice modulations, but that’s about it. I understand their character, neomuna being a separate hidden colony on the second-to-last planet in the system whose last contact with earth was during the warlord era and all, and how blasé they were about things as this would probably be the first time they’re dealing with something other than the occasional vex incursion. I honestly didn’t feel that much when rohan died, but I’d originally thought what his “battle cry” was had come from nimbus as he sacrificed himself, and honestly I prefer to think of it that way because it’s clear in the following interlude and cutscene that nimbus is trying to deal with their grief through keeping themself busy with the legion, and also I’m guessing that cloud striders (and possibly neomuni in general) have different views on dying and the grieving process than earth-bound people do. I haven’t finished the quest for the void machine gun yet but I also hear the ending is pretty good as well.

Neomuna itself is a good location, maybe a little bit jarring compared to other destinations in destiny 2, but I’m sure that was intentional. Only thing I had a problem with is the patrol space being very unfriendly to little 1650 me when I tried doing some bounties and patrols for the first time. Even my arc buddy was struggling, we were in truly desperate times running around barely above the power floor trying not to get one-shot.

Season of defiance’s one (1) battleground is already getting on my nerves. I’m this close to turning off dialogue and subtitles whenever I’m waiting to load into it. The bosses were hell and I hate them, especially the last room. Not a fan of the activity but also excited for new things such as the seasonal exotic mission. I also liked the sort of minor update to the ascendant plane look, much easier to see where I’m going. I also like how open mara is with us now, as someone who used to have issues with her character her growth has been amazing to see.

Overall I’d give the lightfall campaign a solid “I mean, it wasn’t perfect, but still enjoyable at least.”

Season of defiance gets a “you tried” sticker for compensation.

#this turned out a lot longer than i expected sorry everyone #i’m sure there are more i’ve forgotten but i have schoolwork to complete so this is what it is #long post #destiny #destiny 2 #lightfall #lightfall spoilers #destiny 2 spoilers #season of defiance #season of defiance spoilers #just in case #legacy dot text

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ravenadottir · 2 years

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hey! i just wanted to say that i 100% agree with your reasons for not playing s4 and good on you for standing by YOUR choice. <3 it's wild to me how it's pretty much accepted by everyone that fb is a shit company, yet people feel the need to send you hate messages for not playing a game produced by said shit company. i've only just come across your blog, but i can tell it's great without you having to suffer through whatever s4 was. i didn't know fb stole content like that but also not surprised

OH MY GOD, THANK YOU!! it seems so hard for people to understand.

and it's not like i'm telling them to not play it. each one to their own, you know? you wanna go through the circus on fire, my guy, go for it!! i fully don't think less of you as a person or consumer or player because of it.

in fact, i had plenty of people sending me asks about it during the entire season, and i didn't mind it actually, because they were fucking hilarious. and it was a good opportunity to defend thabi, which i'll never dismiss.

it's just... i have so much work, not counting the hours that i dedicate to answering asks, writing, trying to come up with new stuff to post here, so it doesn't get boring, but also... i just don't have the level of horniness i had with previous seasons.

those were absolutely fun, even the bad stuff, or the lazy dialogues...

here's the truth: i've been here since season 2 jakub/chelsea coming in, and you know what? it was pretty magical. the weekly posts, the memes, making fun of whatever was happening... just collectively being fed up with noah's storyline, or missing bobby and gary and lucas so much.

seeing the boys coming back with blake... there's a reason why we still talk about it. it was a huge impact and it was well done;

i remember hundreds of people never wanting gary as an li, and completely changing their minds after that pool dialogue (the one about his body).

it was so moving to see him becoming more popular because of his layers in the game, and not because of headcanons or things the players did, because it meant the writing in the season did that.

he was my very first li, and people used to make fun of him for all the nan talk and how much of a player and superficial he came across as. when we got the pool dialogue, people shifted their view on him. and yes, many of us, gary stans, contributed a lot for people to explore his route, but we watched it happening during weekly releases too. it was so cool!

do you have any idea how much i cried when priya left? or how tumblr was actually in shambles because of it? the moment we realized it was either hope or priya, and regardless of what decisions you made before, she would be leaving?

the posts??? tumblr was in a funeral!

there were just so many moments that were remarkable. emotional, funny, sexy, moving. season 2 did that. no other season that came afterwards even remotely compares.

why should i waste my time on a lukewarm version? my time is precious. they just turned the game into a generic piece of shit app.

honestly? i miss playing the game, i really do! i miss being shocked and coming to tumblr to see if people got the same responses, what memes we were gonna spend the week laughing about.

but fusebox kind of stole that from us. it's not only how watered down the storylines are, or how lackluster the dialogues have become, it's also how they don't care about delivering something remotely good anymore.

they really went, "oh you don't like season 3? alright... here's a season that's gonna make you miss it."

i'm genuinely missing just spending half an hour a week, or more, going through the game, but this? season 4? i have better things to do.

and to the people that still send asks in my inbox, telling me i should play it, what do you think it's gonna happen if i do? be honest. do you think i'll fall in love with them? do you think the season is good enough for me to stop writing for s2 and do it for s4? that i'll dedicate hours and hours to fics and headcanons?

is that what you think it's gonna happen? let me ask you something. WOULD YOU? if it's not to rewrite the season, or rewrite a character, would you spend even a minute on it? if the answer is no, then you know exactly how i feel.

and um, yeah... season 3 and 4 can suck light pole size dicks...

and about the stolen content. there's an ask on queue with everything i could remember. i think it's like four or five posts below this one.

#litg #love island the game #litg s2 #litg season 2 #litg s4 #litg 2 #queue

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angstics · 27 days

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I have many thoughts about les mis live, and they are all beautiful and complex.

to get it out of the way, things that sucked: the face spotlights were RIDICULOUSLY distracting and ugly use wide spots. the context tidbits are so useless lmao everything is explained in the main songs. it kind of made eponine irritating because she would always appear in these ugly sounding tidbits just to yearn. The surprise is kind of the point. The video effects were kinda distracting BUT also really good which i will expand on later. The tempo was so off, at least to how im used to it. I really dislike how they elongated the notes (though it was impressive tbf). I dislike the weird pauses that were obviously not mistakes. I HATE the line changes. They removed my favorite part of paris look down when the ppl go “whens it gonna end somethings gotta happen now somethings gotta give itll come itll come” then the FANTASTIC fanfare. GOD. Watching it live, i felt act 1 was so rushed — i do think it had abnormally fast tempo… this one’s silly bc it depends on actor intuition but i wish they laughed at the points the characters laugh in the 2010 recording (theres like 3 points that just so perfectly punctuate the sadness). Noticeably awkward staging during rain will help flowers grow. I wish grantaire fell with enjolras SORRY.

Also i wish everyone who talked went to hell, everyone who coughed endlessly took some PILLS, everyone who went up and down the stairs pissed in their seat -_- the worst was when the idiots in front of me (WHO WERE TALKING THE WHOLE SHOOOOOW they were shushed by the usher Three times I need them to be tried for this) were whispering during To love another person is to see the face of god and i wanted to STRANGLE them

anyway, onto the good. And be sure it far outweighs the bad. Great casting, great singing, SUCH a good band, good lighting (spots otherwise). There were no obvious acting missteps that i hear in recordings which was a nice surprise

The set was SOOOOOOOO dynamic and fluid and lighting was used in a simple but CRAZY effective way to morph and splinter the setting. Augh. When the set pushed in during paris, i fell to my kneeeeessss (in my brain). The gate, the barricade, the houses were GORGEOUS

Lighting during the final battle. I wanted to die it was so good. I didnt know or forgot grantaire dies last. I remembered it was voluntary but not like that. Jesus god

There were a lot of surprises in staging acting etc that had me genuinely jump in my seat from shock and delight. I have never acted like that in a theatre, much less for a show ive seen and listened to a MILLION times. Some moments like this: enjolras falling over in the cart and being Dragged out, heart full of love starting so reluctantly (i was DELIGHTED by this it was a nice surprise laugh), the wigs (love), the staging during one day more (god when enjolras is dead center stage haloed by light).... there are so many other moments that had me shook i cant recall rn...

gavroche was so Present in the set, which you really miss in the audio. His little added dialogue bit was my favorite of those. His relationship w grantaire was particularly pronounced, which kinda shifted the source of grantaire’s sacrifice. Ofc there are many reasons he chose to die for the cause, but i hadnt thought one being grantaire seeing the police state for the robbing force it was. Hard yes, but evil. He didnt know it was *evil*. I think that realization was pushed by Gavroche’s killing and something so interesting in the discussion of how sheltered these kids were (or not). Rich boy’s game to play… what did enjloras know…

On the same line, i felt the “message” very strongly seeing it sung at me. Is there a world you long to see… i also felt the faith themes distinctly. Vaguely christian ending lol ill lead you to salvation, the only survivors being a couple. Wait the thenadiers are also a couple. Lol?

On that lot, they were fun and good lol. They changed one of his beggar at the feast lines and it was kind of silly. “this one’s a queer but what can you do” to “this one’s a queer, i might try it too” ????? I dont know if we want to wokeify this guy in particular

There was a part duringggg i think drink with me before grantaire’s verse where both he and enjolras are in the shadows on literal opposite sides of the stage (e is high right upstage, g is low left downstage) and grantaire is staring Right at enjolras. And enjolras turns to him through the first verse. I was watching this going crazy that they actually fanfictionified them i didnt think they would more than ive already seen. There is one movement in particular ive never seen and would have Definitely been in the compilations i watched (lol). This will have its own seperate joke post

Speaking of, watching it live made me realize how Present enjolras and grantaire’s relationship is. Besides the lovey dovey achilles-and-patroclus slash thing, i loooovveeeee their ideological conflict SOOOO much. It is so genuis. So i love that it was center stage when it isnt really in the lyrics (or 2012 film or other adaptations)

And they were both blond. Which was crazy

Javert at the end made me so crazy. Again, the staging — mourning Gavroche, seeing valjean carry marius — shifted how i thought of his suicide as well. I think maybe he had the same awakening as grantaire

Hey guys maybe the police state and prison complex is bad lmfao

The candlesticks at the end ❤️ (this is a bit of hater moment but i was watching the ramin 14 boot and the moment the bishop walks away from him at the end he does the same thing fredric march does where there is a pause and jean is kneeling infront of the bishop and he holds the bishop’s hands to his head in silence and. It is so vulnerable and meaningful and i adore it. And i wish theyd kept that staging)

I always found it weird that eponine is for some reason fantine’s right hand man in heaven. If we’re being haters i still dont like the caricatured costumes and behaviours of “the poor” and “whores” companies. AND they shouldve really tried harder on boy eponine. cut her hair at the very least and mirror her further w fantine -_- well that makes make me like heaven more

This also really made me think about how valjean saw javert as Just A Man, while javert saw himself as The Law. Which they literally say but seeing how they acted around each other cemented it. Javert was so very humanized by his sadness and anger and all that emotion Destroyed him because there is no compassion in the law lol. Maybe there is something wrong with our governments Lol

for a bit that kinda meanders and strays from the main action, they made "heart full of love" et al. really really wonderful. the staging was so great, like marius actually climbing the gate and throwing rocks at her window, cosette running to him, marius and eponine hiding along the gate in times i didnt think they were listing. the thenadier climbs the house set it's so fun

i love that eponine is consistently black. it adds. so much. and i will always judge a production if their eponine is white. this one had a great black actor play her -- her voice was nicely different from the recordings

i liked the video sets, especially when it emphasized character mvmt. sometimes it was bright and looked kind of bad, so the darker the better lol. there was a moment when we dip in the sewers where thenadier enters from upstage center from the darkness of the sewer in the backdrop and it was AWESOME.

OH MY GOD turning -> empty chairs. GOOOOOOODDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD. turning is such an underrated song and they just so beautifully staged it. the all female cast who communicated such different perspectives on the massacre that was a nice change from a monolithic company. and the lights. when i saw theyd set them down, i knew what was coming. and then it came. God. empty chairs. so good. So good.

the choreo during the wedding was great

Enjolras had the red vest. W

god i feel im missing so much. hope i get another cheapo ticket. Eek. im so glad i get to see it at all. limit hit <3

#long post

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spacecruiser-z · 9 months

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I am high that means 3D thinking and the capability to hyperfocus on it calmly.

What is it called when you have extremely high anxiety/fears of failure that you body only produces dopamine when you did something right and immediately of a high quality? Adding onto that the childhood trauma of being conditioned to transactional happiness which blurs the margin of error of what I consider a failure.

By this I mean that as I grew up my standards for things dropped and any inconveniences. Ex: a planned event I was genuinely excited for gets cancelled or I can't go for a non-emergency reason.

I'm not sure how close Complicated PTSD fits this bill though.

Mental health failures. What would happen to someone suffers a childhood with little to no memory of a good thing happening because of them, but still having some deep love with their planet? A big enough love and ambition to want to protect it? I love so many things about this stupid, crumbly lavaball in the void. I wanted to be some kind of Natural Scientist when I was little because different plants, animals, and the behavior of an ecosystem amaze me. That shifted to Marine Biology as I learned about how all the plants and animals that I love so much came from aquatic biology, since I enjoy underwater themes so much more apposed to land.

That sounds like a great personality to be honest, driven by a childlike love for science and becoming a forever good egg in the science community. Except then trauma happens. And it happens to them directly, sometimes it's consistent, but as I lower my standards to accommodate optimism the idea of failure becomes more specific. Getting a failing grade in school was nothing compared to the humiliation of being yelled at as a very young child.

Therein lies what a weirdly smart subconscious does. This bitch gotta stay alive, dying is failure, do anything possible to keep from dying. A unanimous voting system is nice, it keeps everything easy if you're mentally stressed. Personify some parts of my personality so that way they can communicate in an organized fashion, since communication is always key to a happy ending. Oh no traumas are happening, certain standards are becoming normal routine and there's like no dopamine to provide motivation towards my goal, being a Marine Biologist.

Fuck it's like currency in a video game, or in general I supposed. You spend a lot of your hard earned dopamine which will fully put you to the next step towards your big goal. Oooo ouch, sorry that backfired. Be through losing a challenging mental failure or failing in a lot of tiny ways in the margin of error.

Think of it like the early game in Stardew Valley or Minecraft, its like every single time you log on you die or lose valuable time and effort over something that wasn't even your fault, even worse when it IS your fault but You don't always do bad things, so being scolded is like being helpless and overstimulated by anxiety.

New failure unlocked, being scolded at or someone noticing my failure. I get very stuttery and Shakey during any form of public speech where it also counts as a test. What events just became super stressful or hurt my mental health? Presenting a project in school, being put onto a spotlight with a judging audience, reading out loud in a way that accurately portrays the words as dialogue.

Can I build on that as a side bar? It's as if the idea of the giving and receiving of knowledge produces dopamine. Which links back up to being conditioned towards feeling happy when I succeed, and the reward for succeeding in something I put hope into is maximized.

Okay back to video game analogy, my bad, Dopamine is a health bar. Hope is a rare currency used towards triggering events which will heal/extend the Dopamine bar. Should events that accumulated hopes conclude as traumatic or are events of extreme mental trauma, dopamine bar will go down. When it reaches 0 suicide becomes possible. I mean that kind of includes death in general but suicide is a humiliating death which will leave the planet to rot and there isn't anything I can do about it if I'm dead.

So basically life is exactly like playing, or should I say replaying, a story game such as The Quarry, Detroit: Become Human, Dark Pictures Anthology, and others. When you replay a hangout event in Genshin Impact. You know what certain decisions will lead you, but only due to your past experience. Will mom change the TV channel if I ask nicely during dinner? Well it hasn't happened yet so I won't put any hope behind that event, why waste a currency so important if you know the gamble will lose?

The answer to that is a gambling addiction thanks to Genshin Impact, I'm not so irrational that I could blow all my money on the game and be broke. Although I don't have any problem with buying things, I have strict budgeting rules that boost my pride in myself a little when I keep them. That life skill is transfered to my dopamine stonkz strategy to maximize the yield of events that I put hope into. However the goals which would normally be placed include something very reasonable, stay exercised and healthy, keep a good diet (as in quality over quantity), maintain good relationships with people that I value.

Okay I'm gonna go to bed, that was a long and unnecessary ramble about my whatever has disordered my personality. Wow I forgot I hate being high, dopamine crash landed on an exponential slope. Yay woohoo insecurities and depression and weed are a horrible combinationnnnn(for me)

#mental illness #what kind of personality disorder is this?#i played the true ending of Coffee Talk #Coffee Talk is a wonderful game.#feed him milky way #she needs her sleep #give her the Bedchamber

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lochnessies · 2 years

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Legitimate question- I got the impression that the entire Sitri and Byleth thing was Rhea experimenting to try to bring her mother back. It didn't strike me as warm at any point. What in the game shifts perspective on all that to make this all seem less cold? I've nothing against Rhea, for the record.

from the outset, yes, that does seem to be what’s happening. nothing more and nothing less.

however, rhea’s experiments (aka creating a vessel) was supposed to make a body for sothis to live in, not someone else’s consciousness. we see that this didn’t work and rather than sothis, sitri was born. if this was only about reviving the goddess the moment that rhea realized that she failed there should be no reason as to why she wouldn’t just take the crest stone away, killing sitri, and starting over. every moment sitri is alive is a moment rhea is further behind in “saving fodlan” and getting her mom back.

because of this, i don’t think her reasoning behind making the vessels was 100% sothis related. she talks about how her goal is to ‘regain all that she had lost.’ and the devs even mentioned that she wants sothis back as the creator and not just as a mother. which basically means that rhea believes that if sothis comes back she can fix everything. the creator can make more nabateans, maybe even bring them back, can stop all wars and conflicts on fodlan and rhea can stop playing unpaid babysitter to the humans.

above all, i think she’s lonely. at this point seteth isn’t at the monastery so she’s by herself and we know that she views her life as a solidarity one (per her s-support). if sitri was only about sothis then there was nothing stopping her from taking her apart once she realized that she wasn’t sothis. absolutely none.

yet despite this we not only see sitri be allowed to live but also make friends and get married. she was allowed to have a life. in cindered shadows rhea says this:

and this:

so yes, rhea loved sitri and saw her as her own daughter. when sitri was in labor rhea was not thinking about sothis, she was thinking of her child. during byleth’s birth sitri, who was frail, was dying. she knew this, knew of the crest stone, and asked rhea to save byleth.

rhea didn’t kill sitri to try and revive the goddess using byleth. she was honoring her daughter’s final wish to save her baby which, as you can see by rhea’s grief and hiding the body, was traumatic and devastating to her.

as for byleth, it wasn’t until later that she started to think that they might not just house the progenitor god, but be sothis with no memory (fusing scene). i think that’s why she didn’t chase after jeralt when he snatched the baby and ran. yes she was distraught to loose sothis’ heart but she didn’t search for it. jeralt isn’t a hard man to find, he’s a mercenary, he has to have his name out there for clients. she probably thought that this was a sign of fate to cease her attempts at reviving the goddess.

i also don’t think that seteth coming to the monastery a year later is a coincidence either. remember i said she’s lonely? i think that having seteth around, one of her kin, helped keep the isolating despair away and helped her keep her head on her shoulders so she didn’t do anything foolish. she needs support and companionship, something she actively wants in her notes and dialogue, so she seeks to revive her mother, and through her, probably her entire race.

however, when sitri was born that also filled that gap for love in her heart so she didn’t take actions to revive her mother bc doing so would hurt her daughter. when sitri died and jeralt took byleth, seteth, her family, comes and she once again takes no action. it isn’t until byleth comes to the monastery that she starts to think that maybe it’s the goddess’ will “did the flow of time bring you here” and her flickering hope comes back in full force after byleth fuses with sothis.

#asks #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #rhea

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freddie-weaselbee · 3 years

Text

Stupid//F.W.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Underaged drinking, drunk characters, Fred has a problem in his pants, undressing someone, one lil dirty joke, one horrible dad joke

Summary: Y/N decides to let loose one night at a Gryffindor party, making a slightly less drunk Fred resort to being her babysitter and hearing some confessions that sober Y/N would never dare say.

Prompts: Getting Drunk Together with dialogue prompts “I think I forgot how to breath,” and “were you dreaming of me again?”

Word Count: 1.8k just a lil shorty

A/N: Day 4 of @theweasleyslut‘s 2k writing challenge -- WAIT GUYS THIS ONE’S ACTUALLY LIKE ONE OF MY FAVS --

“Freddie catch me!” You launched yourself off the back of the velvet couch in the Gryffindor Common Room, arms and legs spread wide like you were a flying squirrel. Fred, who had his back turned to your antics, saw you right before your feet left the couch and he dove frantically toward you, catching you right before you would’ve broken your nose on the floor. “Again!”

Fred chuckled and continued to hold you much to your dismay. “I need to keep a better eye on you, don’t I?”

“Put me down!” you said, squirming in his hold. Fred decided to give you what you wanted, so he placed you down on the couch. And then he sat right on top of you.

“Fred!” Your voice was muffled by his jumper, which you were now trying to spit out of your mouth. “Let me out, let me out you big stupid.”

“Oh I’m the big stupid?” he asked mockingly. “You almost just killed yourself for the third time tonight. I knew letting you get this wasted was a dumb idea.”

“T’was also your dumb idea,” you said, still trying to push him off of you to no avail.

Fred glanced around the common room at who was still left. After the Quidditch match earlier and a great win for Gryffindor, Fred and George had thrown the best party that Hogwarts had ever seen, with music and food and dancing. And, of course, lots and lots of firewhisky.

Most of the festivities had died down about an hour ago and only a handful of people remained downstairs, most either too wasted to move or babysitting those who were too wasted to move. Fred got the honor of being one of those babysitters.

He realized that he had probably pinned you down for long enough and he moved to let you have your space. You sat up gasping for air, wrapping your hands around your neck and leaning from side to side.

“I think I forgot how to breathe.”

Fred rolled his eyes and moved closer to you, grabbing your hands in his and removing them from your neck, placing them on your lap instead.

“C’mon, stupid, it’s not that hard. Breathe in. Breathe out.”

You tried to do what he said but ended up doubling over in a coughing fit, small tufts from his jumper coming out of your mouth.

“Bloody hell, did you inhale my jumper?!”

You giggled bashfully before sticking almost your entire hand in your mouth, pulling out a long thread and gagging in the process.

“You’re disgusting,” he said, grabbing a nearby napkin to clean off your spit-covered hand.

You stuck out your hand as if going in for a handshake. “Hi disgusting, I’m dad.”

“That’s not even how that joke works, dummy.” He wiped you down, grimacing as some of the spit got on his hand. Fred was not sober enough to deal with this. Earlier, when you had told him you’d never really been drunk before, only tipsy, Fred thought that tonight would be the perfect night to have you let loose if you wanted to. He promised he’d watch you and take care of his friend, which is why you finally let yourself go and had a wild time. Unfortunately, Fred had never been the responsible one before and you were good at being sneaky, so you had a lot more alcohol than he would have liked.

His head buzzed with the firewhisky burning inside him, wishing he would’ve decided to stay sober instead of taking a handful of shots. But you just looked like you were having so much fun out there on the dance floor and he figured a few wouldn’t hurt. Now the both of you were drunk and only one of you knew how to handle their alcohol. The other now had their head laying in their best friend’s crotch.

“Y/N!” he hissed, hoping no one was looking at the two of you, but they were all either too drunk or too distracted to notice. “Get up, what is your head doing down there?”

“You’re soft,” you said, snuggling into his lower half.

He quickly lifted your head and put it on a pillow, grabbing another to hide a growing problem where your nose had just been. “Yeah, that’s definitely not true,” he said, laughing quietly at his own joke. He shifted for a few seconds before deeming it ok for him to stand.

It was getting late, and Fred knew that you were already going to have a rough morning, so he’d better get you to bed as quickly as possible.

“Alright, love, let’s--”

He cut himself off when he looked back down at you lying on the couch, completely asleep. He sighed but smiled warmly, wondering where all of the energy you had minutes ago just went. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

He reached down to pick you up, carrying you bridal style to your prefect dorm. He walked ever-so-slowly, stumbling a bit from his intoxication but determined to make sure you got back safe. After effectively ascending the stairs (thank Godric he and George had found a way past the no boys allowed charm years ago) and getting to your private room, he laid you down gently and grabbed a t-shirt and shorts for you to change into.

He was crouched down and digging through your drawers when he heard your small voice whisper. “Freddie, I love you Freddie.”

He grabbed the clothes and sat next to you, seeing that you were still asleep. “Hey,” he said softly, shaking you awake. You swatted him away a few times before allowing yourself to open your eyes.

“Were you dreaming of me again?” he teased. He grabbed you under your armpits and lifted your torso up, gesturing for you to put your hands in the air. You did, using all of your strength to keep you from toppling over.

“Mhmm,” you said. “I was dreaming of you and me, and how much I love you.”

You elongated the word love, saying it in a singsong voice and bringing a smile to Fred’s face as he lifted your old shirt over your head. “I love you too, stupid, your my bestest friend.”

All of a sudden you were shaking your head, looking annoyed and angry. “No, I love you. Like love love.”

“Uh huh,” Fred replied, brain not working fast enough to catch onto what you meant. “I love love you too. Now help me get this shirt on.”

You hphmed crossly and pulled the shirt over your head. “You’re the stupid, Mr. Big Stupid. I love love love you. In my dream, you were there and you kissed me! Like this.”

You leaned forward and planted a big sloppy kiss onto Fred’s lips, immediately slumping forward into his shoulder. It took him a couple of seconds to realize what had just happened, but before he could say anything you started talking again.

“You kissed me, then you told me how you loved me too, and how I was your favorite person in the whole wide world, even more than Georgie!” You suddenly gasped, covering your mouth with your hand. “Don’t tell Georgie I said that, I love him so much, he can’t know that I want you to love me more than him. Don’t tell, ok?” You seemed as though you were going to cry from what you had just confessed to Fred.

“I won’t, I won’t, I pinky swear,” Fred said quickly, thrusting his pinky into your face. You frown washed away and was replaced with a gleeful smile as you shook his pinky, sealing your promise.

“Good, I don’t want George to hate us.”

Fred pulled you into his arms and stood you up slowly, grabbing the shorts he had picked out for you. “Ok, can you take your shorts off for me please? You need to put on new ones.”

Nodding, you reached for the pants but tried to put them on over the skirt you were already wearing.

“No no no, not like that.” Fred sighed in exasperation and decided that had had to help you with this too. “Ok hold still.”

He sunk to his knees in front of you, one hand firm on your waist in order to keep you from falling. Trying to avoid looking as much as possible, Fred fumbled around the waistband of your skirt and pulled it down, leaving you standing in only your shirt and panties. He tried not to look, but his drunk brain was making it really hard for him to control his eyes. He had you step forward into the pant legs and pulled them up nice and snug around your waist, hoping he hadn’t done anything that he shouldn’t have during the encounter.

“Thanks love,” you slurred, falling immediately back onto the bed. “Wanna kiss me again? Like you did in my dream?”

Fred plopped down next to you, letting his fingers play with your hair as you cuddled up on your side. “Yeah, I do. But not tonight, ok? We’re both a little crazy tonight aren’t we?”

“We’re both a little stupid”

“No, we’re big stupids. Mr. and Mrs. Big Stupid.”

You laughed loudly rolling over a few times and almost falling off the bed before Fred caught you. “I wanna be your Mrs. Can I be your Mrs., Freddie? Pretty pretty please?”

He snickered, pulling the blanket up over the both of you. Staying the night would probably be for the best, especially since you didn’t have anyone else in the dorm to take care of you. “Of course, you’ll be Mrs. Freddie Big Stupid, how does that sound.”

You clapped your hands smiling into your pillow. “I’m gonna marry you. And we’re gonna have the biggest bestest wedding ever. And everyone’s gonna be there. Oh no, but we have to go on a date first. We’ve never been on a date.” You pouted.

Fred put a finger to his chin, thinking. “How about tomorrow night we go on a date. I can take you on a beautiful picnic and we’ll watch the sun set and then you can kiss me again like you did tonight. Sound good stupid?”

“Hmm,” you said, voice trailing off as sleep threatened to overtake you again. “That sounds perfect.”

Fred bit his lip, trying to hold back a loud whoop of joy. Instead, he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you back into him.

“Freddie?” you asked quietly. “Am I gonna remember this tomorrow?”

He laughed and nuzzled his head into your hair, happier than he had been in a long long time. “Probably not. But I will, and I’ll make sure to remind you.”

“Okie dokie, g’night Big Stupid.”

“G’night Big Stupid. See you in the morning.”

Tag List:

@famdomhideout @amourtentiaa

#theweasleyslut's 2k writing challenge #fredweasleyimagine #fred weasley #fredweasley #fred #fred weasley x reader #fred x reader #getting drunk together #freddie

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illfoandillfie · 3 years

Text

A Different Kind of Education: I Is For Impact Play (Chapter 8)

ADKoE MASTERLIST

Pairing: Professor!Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader

Series Summery: After being broken up with for not being kinky enough, Reader seeks out her professor to give her some private tutoring so she can win her boyfriend back.

Chapter Summery: A new week and a new lesson, but also a new challenge. How can you possibly find the courage to talk to your professor about your period?

Warnings: Modern AU, smut (18+), slow burn romance, dom/sub dynamics, dom!roger and sub!reader, professor x student sex, dialogue heavy, conversations about and mentions of menstrual cycles/periods, discussions of impact play including: spanking, kicking, slapping, punching, floggers, paddles, crops, whips, and canes

Words: 10,391

A/N: Better late than never, right? Big apologies for taking so long to get this one up! Once again I've had to split a single topic into multiple chapters lmao. This one is mostly the theory part of the lesson and a bit of an info dump, but the next part will focus more on the actual smut.

Taglist: @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @ilovequeenmorethanyou @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies @cherries-n-rocknroll @rogersslave @scorpiogemini

@80s-roger @libsterslobsters @okilover02 @cjand10 @dealorgirl32 @youngpastafanmug @onceuponadetectivedemigod

You knew it was something you’d have to deal with eventually, that having your period would affect your lessons with Roger. But still you felt reluctant to broach the topic with him. It wasn’t something you generally discussed with people, especially not your professor (even if you were regularly sleeping with him). And you could already hear the lecture he’d give you about why you shouldn’t be embarrassed to tell your sexual partner about your cycle, and about how he’d taught reproduction enough to not be phased by it. The problem was you weren’t really sure how you felt about having sex during it and you knew even less about whether Roger would want to. You were definitely going to have to talk to him about it, no matter how much you didn’t want to. So, wondering when the best time to bring it up would be, you checked the curriculum he’d written for you. Impact play. That was the topic for the week. Roger might consider you clueless about kink (as you’d learnt during the previous week’s munch), but you at least knew enough to know that impact play meant spanking. For a moment you were distracted from your worries about the conversation you were going to have, rather excited by what you’d just read. Spanking was one of those things you’d been expecting to try. When you thought about BDSM, spanking was the second thing to come to mind after bondage. It was one of those things Dylan had hinted at being into. A couple of times during sex he’d given your arse a slap and, though you’d never really asked for it you also hadn’t told him to stop. He never hit too hard and it added a bit of excitement so there was no harm in it. And you suspected he might be interested in pushing it further if you ever suggested as much. So, to know that Roger was going to run you through the basics of it and show you how it felt, you couldn’t help but be a bit excited. And maybe you’d be able to keep things over the clothes to start and you wouldn’t have to tell Roger about your period after all. The good thing with having an implant was that it reduced the duration of your period. It would have been nice if it stopped it entirely but at least it shortened it and made it a little lighter. So maybe you could organise a second session later in the week for the more hands on part of the lesson, and not have to explain at all. You left your apartment feeling happier and excited to see Roger that night. But you didn’t have to wait so long to see him.

You’d barely taken two steps inside when a familiar voice called out Ms Y/L/N and you found Roger walking towards you, his hand raised in a lazy wave. “Hi Professor,” you smiled, surprised but happy to see him, “I’m just on my way to class, what’s up?” “Oh, in that case,” he glanced over to a group of students ambling past you, “do you have time for a meeting before you leave this afternoon?” Your heart rate sped up at the serious way he looked at you over his glasses, “Umm sure.” “Good. I’ll see you this afternoon then. Don’t forget.” You nodded but a new worry had taken over your mind. There was only one reason he could want to talk to you. Your degree. If it was anything to do with his tutoring sessions then he would have just said it when you got to his place that evening. No, it must be to do with your class work. Maybe something had been wrong with your last exam? Possibilities were turning over in your mind as you resumed your path to your first class, each worse than the other. Maybe you’d misunderstood a question and gotten it completely wrong. Maybe he’d had to fail you. Maybe your overall grade had dropped. Maybe he was going to call the whole tutoring thing off because you’d gotten too distracted and done so badly on your recent assessment. You spent the entire day trying not to get too worked up about it, trying to tell yourself that if your work had slipped even a little he would have called to talk about it earlier, that if it really was as bad as failing his subject you’d have discussed it long before now. By the time your last class of the day ended you were somewhere between terrified about what Roger was going to say and relieved that you were about to find out.

Your hand was shaking as you knocked on Roger’s office door and pushed it open at his word. “AH, Ms Y/L/N, shut the door please and take a seat.” he said, shifting a stack of papers to the side of his desk. It was only once you were sitting that he seemed to look at you properly, “Are you alright? You look a bit pale.” “Professor I’m so sorry, I swear if something was wrong with my last exam then it wasn’t because of our lessons and I promise I’m not letting them distract me at all. I put so much time and effort into studying and if-” “Woah, woah, hang on. No one said anything was wrong.” Your breath caught in your throat and it seemed to take you twice as long as it normally would for you to understand what he’d said, “There’s not? Then....why am I here?” “It’s about tonight’s tutoring session.” “Oh?” “I wondered if you’d be okay making a small change to the plan.” “S-so nothing's wrong with my work?” Roger shook his head, “Your work is impeccable Ms Y/L/N. Sorry, I didn’t realise you’d assume the worst. I had no intention of worrying you like that. I was intending to mention it this morning but you seemed to be in a bit of a rush and I didn’t want anyone to overhear so...” he gestured vaguely towards you with his hands. You let out a relieved chuckle, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders, “What was the change you wanted to make?” “Do you know what we’ll be focusing on this week?” “Impact play, Professor.” “Very good. And do you know what that entails?” “It’s like spanking isn’t it?” “Spanking is definitely part of it, yes.” “Cool. But you’re not wanting to switch topic are you? Only I’ve been kind of looking forward to this one since it’s like proper BDSM stuff....or like, not that other things aren’t I just mean that spanking is part of what I initially imagined, y’know?” Roger held up his hand to quiet you, “I understand what you mean Ms Y/L/N. And it’s not that I want to change the topic, I just wanted to change where the lesson would take place.” “Okay...” you were a little surprised by that. Where else could he have in mind when your lessons were supposed to be secret. “I thought we might have the first lesson here.” “Here?!” “Keep your voice down, Ms Y/L/N. Not here exactly, not this office. In the first-year bio room actually.” “Why? Isn’t that kind of risky? What if someone saw?” Roger shrugged one shoulder, “It might be, but I think what I intend to show you could be covered as a biological experiment. Let me explain,” he said upon seeing your confused face, “So, as you no doubt remember, first years do a lot of dissection of various animals, working their way up to human.” You nodded, remembering hours spent bent over various carcases and cadavers. “Well, I thought it might be beneficial to show you some of the impact play tools we can use, demonstrating how they work and what effects they can have, but I don’t want to demonstrate them on you straight away. Luckily, it just so happens that one of the animals my first years are studying right now is pigs, so I thought we might use a pig carcass instead. Pig and human flesh are quite similar so you should get a decent sense of how being spanked with various tools will look and the impact they would have on your skin. We can compare being spanked by hand to flogging to a crop and so on. All without experiencing any pain at all. Of course, it is a dead pig so it won’t be exactly the same and you probably won’t see the same levels of bruising you would on a living human being, but it’s a good starting point. Plus this way you could try wielding the tools too, so you can get a sense for how they feel to use them and how much force is required to make them work.” You were taken aback by the explanation and had to stop your jaw from falling open as you listened. But Roger waited patiently for you to think it over and you quickly concluded it was a good plan. You could easily write it off as related to your dissertation if anyone saw and asked what was going on. It wasn’t at all related but Roger was about the only person who knew what topic you were researching so no one else would pick up the lie. “Okay then, let’s have the lesson here.” “Excellent. You really don’t mind hanging back?” “Not at all.” “Good. I think we should possibly wait until a little later before we start, just to let the place clear out a bit. Perhaps we could get some dinner and eat it in here before we head down to the room. You can tell me how you’re getting on with your dissertation.” “Okay, I like that idea.” “Shall I duck out and get us some food then? What would you like?”

After what could only be described as a minor argument about the merits of Mexican food, you and Roger eventually settled on a nearby Greek place. He tapped the order into Uber Eats and then went to wait for the delivery out on the street so the driver wouldn’t have to find their way through the numerous carparks and laneways on campus. You ducked out to your own car to drop off your bag full of books, though you kept your laptop to make notes on. It would also make your story seem more legitimate if anyone did stumble onto the lesson and ask what was going on. The thought of the lesson made you smile. Partly because you were keen to learn about the topic but also partly because you knew there was no way sex would be part of it. Roger would definitely draw the line at fucking his student in his classroom where anyone could catch you. And if you were going to be spanking a dead pig then you wouldn’t be asked to remove clothes or anything like that. So you wouldn’t have to discuss your menstrual cycle with Roger at all. You’d just say you were busy until later in the week when your period stopped and organise the follow-up lesson then and Roger wouldn’t be any the wiser. It was perfect. That, in addition to knowing nothing was wrong with your actual schoolwork, put you in a very good mood and you could have whistled with joy as you made your way back to Roger’s office.

By the time you’d finished eating, the sky outside the window had changed from a mix of warm pinks and yellows as the sun set and was gradually darkening the longer you watched. It was only when Roger glanced at his watch and saw that it was a quarter to seven that he decided the building would be empty enough for your lesson to start. He grabbed his own laptop as you grabbed yours and then led you along the corridor and down a set of stairs, taking you towards the back of the building where the hands-on biology lessons were held. Roger made sure the door was shut and locked before dumping his belongings onto a desk. “Can you give me a hand?” he asked, before moving to the door to a walk-in freezer at the back of the room. Together you hoisted a large pig carcass onto a cart and wheeled it out into the main room. Roger then ducked back into the freezer returning, after a little rummaging, with what looked to be a child’s toy crate. It was made of yellow plastic and seemed light enough that Roger had no trouble hoisting it onto one of the desks, but it was not full of children’s toys. You couldn’t see everything immediately but poking out of the top was a long black handle with a leather flap hanging off the end. “Is that what we’ll be using then?” You were eyeing the box warily. “Yup,” Roger began pulling the items from the box one by one, laying them out on the desk, “I brought the box in earlier and hid it down here so no one would stumble onto it. I didn’t want any awkward questions. Or to have any of them stolen since they’re mine,” he added with a chuckle. You looked over the collection with interest, some of the objects familiar to you and some only vaguely recognisable, “Is that a hair brush?” “It is,” Roger winked playfully, “Kink can be very D.I.Y and the back of a hairbrush makes for a good makeshift paddle. The front of the hairbrush can be fun too actually. Anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself. I’m going to go through everything individually, explain what they are and what sort of effect they have and I’ll demonstrate them on our piggy participant. There’s also a few things I don’t have which we can run through at the end, sound good?” “Sounds great.” You sank into one of the nearby seats, pulling your laptop towards you, ready to take notes. “Right well. Impact play is a BDSM practice where one partner strikes another for sexual gratification. As you rightly said earlier this includes spanking but there's a little more to it than just that. You can slap your partner, punch them, kick them, whip them or flog them. There’re numerous ways to play with impact and as with all BDSM it’s important to negotiate what you want before you start. Being struck can leave marks of course. Brusies, welts, scratches, right through to cuts that draw blood. For some people, the marking aspect is an important part of their enjoyment, and they might go so far as to intentionally make the marks more apparent. But whether or not you want visible marks might be influenced by your job or the season or your social life or any number of other things. Personally, the marks are secondary to why I enjoy the forms of impact play I partake in. But my feelings aside, the nature of our lessons and the secrecy required, means I won’t intentionally be marking you anywhere that isn’t easy to cover up. If you even want to try it out. You might see everything today and decide it’s not for you and that would be okay.” “I don’t think there’s much danger of that Roger. Dylan’s spanked me a little before and I’m interested enough to try more.” “In that case then, you should know that physical pain is part of impact play no matter what aspect you try. And it can bring up more mental pain too, depending on the individual. Which is why I want to start with testing some implements on this pig. We can go through a few things and you’ll get a sense of them and then we can talk about what you might actually want to try or if any of it seems wrong for you. I’m also going to be much more diligent with your safe word in these lessons than any before. So what is your safe word?” “Pizazz, Roger,” “Good. Remember you can use it whenever you need to, even today. If things get too much for you I want to know.” “I know. I promise I’ll use it.” You were struck by how serious Roger’s tone was but understood it, after the conversation you’d had during your previous lesson. And, for the first time, you wondered if this would be a topic Roger would find hard to teach. “Thank you. I’ll check in with you every so often, especially when we move onto the practical lesson and you’re experiencing it firsthand. So, if I ask you what your safe word is, I need you to respond as loudly and as quickly as you can. It’s a way for me to gauge how well you’re coping and to make sure you’re still capable of using it.” “That makes sense.” Having assured himself of your understanding, Roger took a deep breath and smiled again, “Well, I have a range of different implements you can use here today but we’ll start with the most basic,” he held his two hands in front of him, palms towards you, fingers wiggling, “Hands.” You smiled at his showmanship but your gaze lingered on the offered view. His hands had always seemed quite lovely, even when he was just teaching you biology. The way they moved so delicately as he demonstrated necessary scientific processes for the class, or rapidly twirled pens around his fingers to impress new students. Of course, you’d felt them too since you’re first private lesson, the way he caressed you and held you. His fist tightening in your hair and his fingers plunging into you and making you moan and the way he’d gently stroke your skin as you were both regaining your breath. You were excited to feel the power in them as he spanked you. “Spanking is entry level impact play. Everyone and their mother has heard of it. It’s a common thing to see in pornography and even in Hollywood movies when they want to show sex as kinky. And because you don’t need more than your hands it’s easy to experiment with. Do you want to see what it looks like?” You nodded and Roger stepped closer to the pig, angling himself so you could see. Suddenly there was the sound of a clap as Roger’s palm hit the pig’s flesh. “See how my hand was open and my palm was flat?” Roger demonstrated again but slower so the hit barely made a sound, “But what if I do this?” He hit the pig again but changed the position of his hand. The sound of his hand colliding with the pig was deeper the second time around, “If you cup your hand, curve it slightly, you can change the way the spank feels and sounds. Just like clapping.” You experimentally clapped your hands together, first with open palms and then with each hand cupped so that the fingers wrapped around the back of the other. “Now you give the pig a try.” Feeling a surge of nervously excited butterflies, you got out of your seat and took your place at the pig. With a breath and a swallow you quickly brought your hand down. The slapping sound seemed to echo in the quiet room but it wasn’t as crisp as the noise Roger’s hits had made. With a look to Roger for permission, you tried it again, creating a slightly more impressive sound. “Good, now cupped?” You did it again, curving your fingers in a bit and bringing it down again. It felt more awkward than the open palm hit had so you repositioned yourself to hit the pig from a slightly different angle and tried once more. “Don’t be afraid to pull your arm back further. The more your rear back, the more force will be in the spank. Like this,” he pulled his hand back past his ear and swung down hard, the spank echoing around you. “Of course, you can also spank from a nearer point too. Spanking, and a lot of impact play, is best if you mix it up a bit, don’t stay in one rhythm too long, do some spanks with your fingers spread, or change how hard or fast they are. I might give a sub two or three hard hits each with a pause between but then I’ll switch to a more rapid series of spanks that don’t have as much force behind them but come faster.” You nodded and experimented with taking your arm back further, testing out ways to change the strength of each spank, until Roger finally called you to stop. “How did that feel?” he asked as you took your seat again. “My hand tingles.” “That’s normal,” Roger laughed, “in fact it’s one thing I really enjoy about spanking by hand. The sub isn’t the only one who feels the spanks, the dom gets some of the pain in his hand too, especially if the intensity ramps up or there's a section of quick-fire spanks. And that can a) help the dom understand what the sub is feeling and work out how long the scene should go and b) brings a sort of intimacy to the scene that is harder to achieve with a tool.” You hummed as you noted down what he’d said, “Have you ever spanked someone so much you injured your wrist or anything?” “No.” Roger shook his head, amused by the question, “My wrists are pretty sturdy. But a few times I’ve been left with a stingy, tingly hand for an hour or two. Which brings me to an important note about pain. There are two main types of pain you can experience in impact play. We refer to them as thuddy and stingy.” “Thuddy and stingy? What is this, an afternoon kids show?” Roger rolled his eyes, “The names are simple but they explain exactly what they mean. Some types of impact will have a stingy sensation which is usually superficial. It won’t go deeper than the first few layers of skin and probably leaves the skin feeling warm and a little tingly or like sunburn, y’know? It’s typical of spanks and slaps. Thuddy pain is deeper, it gets into the fat and muscles and tissue and aches more. And I’ll go through which tools cause which sort of pain as I get to them. Generally though, people who enjoy impact play have a preference for one or the other.” “And your preference is what?” “Thuddy. Definitely. Although I prefer inflicting stingy.” You hummed thoughtfully. “Now, I’ll go into details about ways to actually incorporate spanking into a scene later. We can talk about it while we’re negotiating our scene. Today is just about the practicalities and sensations involved in the different types of impact play. So are you okay to move on?” “Yup, definitely.” And then, sensing Roger might ask, you added, “Pizazz.” feeling pleased when you saw him smile.

“I don’t expect us to delve too deep into them but I think I should touch on kicking, punching and slapping. Kicking and punching are things I’ve not done. They can, obviously, be quite painful. But they’re pretty self-explanatory. From what I understand about it, and what I’ve heard others who enjoy that kind of thing say, kicking and punching can both be very intimate, similar to the way spanking by hand is, but in a more primal or animalistic way. Punching is, of course, done without any accessories but kicking often includes footwear of some kind. A lot of time it’s something like a steel-toed boot or something with a bit of weight to it.” “That isn't something I want to try.” You’d learnt a lot about how far kink went so weren’t completely shocked that some people would enjoy something as forceful as kicking, but it did take you by surprise to hear Roger talking about it. “What about slapping?” “How is that different to spanking?” “Well, you’re right, they are similar. But slapping generally refers to slapping on the face whereas spanking is usually on the, uh, derriere. Of course you can slap or spank other parts too. For clarity’s sake, if I say slapping assume I mean on the face whereas spanking is anywhere else on the body.” You thought about it for a second, “I’m not sure if I’d be game to try it but I do want to know more.” “Slapping can be fun. Again, it’s not one I do a lot but I have played with it in the past. It comes in handy for particular scenes and there’s a fairly bratty sub I’ve worked with who responds really well to it. The most important thing to know is that if you are slapping someone’s face only ever aim for the cheeks. There’s a lot of fragile places around the face and it’s close to the brain so you need to be careful not to do any lasting damage. Never hit the temples because you hit them with enough force and it can kill a person. Nose and ears are off limits too, anything that is important. You knew enough about biology to know Roger wasn’t making those rules up for fun. Noses were easy to break and hitting an ear too hard could damage someone’s hearing. But face slapping did still intrigue you.

“Well, I’d say the next – let's call it the next level – of impact play is paddling.” He picked up what looked to be a wooden plank with a handle. It was an inch or two longer and wider than his hand with small holes cut out in a repeating pattern over the flat side so you could look right through it. “They don’t always look like this. Paddles come in lots of different shapes and sizes. This is a wooden one but they’re also frequently made of leather and sometimes the leather ones will have one side that’s a little more padded than the other. That gives you a bit of versatility with the pain. You can start off lightly with the padded side to get you in the zone and then during the scene switch it to the firmer side that hurts more. Or, if you don’t have access to a paddle at all, you can substitute a hairbrush.” He picked the hairbrush up and waved it back and forth. “And that-” you pointed at the hair brush, “will feel the same as that?” you pointed at the wooden paddle, not quite able to reconcile the two in your mind. “Not exactly the same but close. Honestly you can get really creative with impact play and not spend any money to get nearly the same results. I mean a plastic hairbrush might take a few extra hits or a little more force to really bruise someone but they’ll still end up sore from it. Or, if the hairbrush doesn’t do it for you, dig through your draws and see what else you can find. Wooden spoons, cutting boards, rulers, leather belts, spatulas, rolling pins, ping pong paddles, anything you can get your hands on. Just be mindful of how easily they’d break or them causing more pain than you expect.” Again, you weren’t necessarily surprised by the lengths people would go to for sexual gratification, as Roger had put it, but it was a bit astounding. Still, you noted it all down just in case. “Now a paddle generally falls under the stingy category but you do tend to get a deeper bruise than with your hand. Different factors could alter the way it feels too. If you put less force into it the pain will fall more on the thuddy side, same goes for if your hits are slower. But the pain call also be influenced by the size of the paddle, the material it’s made out of, the texture of it.” “Texture?” “Sometimes paddles have added texture, so they aren’t just a smooth, flat board. They might have metal studs that are more raised than the surface of the blade – the part you hit with – or ridging that will imprint the skin. This one has holes in it which definitely changes the feeling, makes it more intense. As you strike and the blade hits, the holes do two things. They stop any air cushions forming that would lessen the impact and they sort of push the skin into the holes which means the pain isn't completely even along where was hit. Plus it also leaves these cool circle marks behind which is fun.” You realised you’d held your breath through the explanation, eyes following the paddle as Roger waved it through the air and ran his hands over it unconsciously. You hoped he had something more beginner friendly at home, though you couldn’t pretend you weren’t turned on by the way he wielded his weapon. “Using it is quite similar to spanking but your hand isn’t hitting, it’s holding onto the paddle handle. So you just pull back,” Roger’s arm went back and the paddle swung backwards,” and then hit,” he swung his arm forward, the paddle cutting through the air and landing directly against the soft flesh of the pig. It made a satisfying thwack sound on impact and when Roger’ brought it back again you could see the circular patterns he’d talked about. He demonstrated a few more times before he handed the plank to you. It was heavier than you’d been expecting, solid wood, but the handle fit into your palm comfortably. You ran your hands over the flat part, what Roger had called the blade, and felt the holes with your fingers. The weight made it a little hard to swing but not impossible. You managed to mark the pig as well, stroking the circular imprints with your fingers. “Try the hairbrush,” Roger said, swapping it for the paddle. Its handle wasn’t quiet as long, but it was lighter and you found your hits were harder with it, without you even trying. “Something to be aware of if you use an ordinary household item, or even just a different sort of impact toy. Because it’s lighter you can pull it back further and swing harder. A dom has to be aware of how much is going into each hit and how much their sub can handle.”

“So what’s after paddles?” “Floggers.” Roger picked his up off the table, “This is a fairly typical flogger. As you can see it’s made of black leather. It has the handle which is the thickest part and then a number of smaller tails. The tails is where you get the most variation which can be a stylistic choice or just a side effect of its price and overall quality. There’s a trick for knowing if a flogger is good quality or not. It should be pretty evenly balanced between the handle and the tails, so you should be able to do this,” he held out a finger and balanced the flogger on it carefully, the handle pointing out one way and the tails dangling over the other. You thought for sure it would tip forward onto the tails and tumble to the ground but it hung there perfectly. “Sometimes there will be more tails or they'll look different but no matter what, it should be balanced.” Roger gave a practiced flick of his hand so the flogger leapt into the air and he was able to catch the handle before it fell. “From a more stylistic point of view, you could get a flogger with less tails but they’ll be made of braids of leather which makes them heavier and thicker. Braided tails are also likely to have knots in the ends which can be a bit scratchy and even draw blood. They don’t have to be made of leather either. Rubber floggers are also popular. The tails on them tend to be more rectangular in shape, still flat but they have more edges and it actually feels like you’re being hit with more tails then there really are. And if you’re looking to really fuck someone up you can get hemp floggers. Sometimes they’ll look similar to this leather one but hemp is fairly stiff material and sometimes the tails will be shaped so that they’re sort of squiggly rather than flat lines. The squiggles hurt like a bitch, especially if they have knots at the end. Definitely start off with simple leather and work up once you’re more experienced.” Roger dragged the ends of the tails over his hand as he spoke, “I’d say this falls into the more thuddy type of pain. It can cover a large area of your body since the tails spread out and each of them creates an individual pain point. And because you’re being hit six or seven or nine or however many times at once, you can build up quite a rapid movement over a short period of time.” You eyed the dancing tails as Roger moved his hand through them, “How long are the tails? Isn’t it a bit dangerous to have so many bits flying in all directions?” Roger laughed, “Well yeah, kinda. I mean, that’s BDSM for you though, it gets dangerous which is why we’re all obsessed with safety. It’s a good thing to have noticed though, well done. The tails on this one are on the shorter side but some floggers will have much longer ones which means the dom can stand further back and still inflict a lot of pain. But you’re right, you do have to be mindful of the length and where they’re flying because a longer tail can potentially wrap around to somewhere you aren’t intending to hit. For instance, if you’re standing behind a person and flogging the back of their shoulder, you don’t want one of the tails to fly past their shoulder and around their neck. That would be incredibly painful and probably not what they expected or wanted from the scene.” “So you have to take into account the length of the tails when you’re negotiating the scene then? And know where on the body to focus the hits so you don’t risk causing the wrong sort of pain and ending it early.” “Exactly. That’s why negotiating the scene is important. Then both the dom and the sub will know what they want to achieve, what they want to get out of the experience, and they can tailor things to fit better. A lot of doms who are into impact play are likely to have multiple versions of their favourite toys – I myself have a few different paddles at home, I just didn’t bring them all in with me today – so by talking through what you want they’ll be able to choose the style of toy that will best fit the scene.” “So how do you use a flogger then? Is it the same as spanking and paddling where you just swing your arm forward?” “Sort of. Floggers have a few different ways to use them. There is of course the single strike option where, yeah, you do just hit them like you would with a paddle. I find that you don’t need to bring your arm back so far though, the movement comes from your elbow more than your shoulder.” Roger bent his arm so his hand and the flogger were roughly head height and then brought it down on the pig, “And you can change the angle of your single strike so that you hit them overhand or underhand or from one of the sides.” He demonstrated each direction as he said them, first bringing the flogger down from above, then swinging it up from below, then from the right side and finally a backhanded hit from the left. “But you don’t have to just pick a side to hit from. Paddles and hands are limited in how you can swing them but floggers have more movement. One way to use them is to swing them in a circle.” He moved back towards the pig to demonstrate, standing side on so that the tails whipped around and struck the pig, “I like starting off with circles because you can keep the pressure quite light. The tails sort of brush over the sub as they pass and it can be a good way to slowly build up. And then you can move into a figure eight as you get a bit harder.” Roger shifted his circles so they made a sideways eight in the air, subtly adjusting his stance so that the tail swished over the pig’s skin on both the forward and back motion. You watched, awe-struck by how easily Roger swung the flogger, falling into a rhythm quickly. It wasn’t hard to imagine how he’d suddenly change the speed or the force of the swing when you were least expecting it.

You were brought back to the present by Roger clearing his throat as he stilled the flogger, “The figure eight is why you should practice your backhand swing as much as any other. Because the tails will hit the sub on both the forward and back swings and you want them to be as even as possible.” He flipped the flogger in his hands, holding the handle out to you. It felt smooth and cool in your hand, lighter than the paddle had been. You swished it experimentally, trying to get a sense of how it felt in motion.” “Show me your overhand hit.” Roger said, leaning back against the nearest desk to watch. You tried to imitate how he’d swung it, elbow bent, flogger raised. It must have been good enough because Roger nodded and said, “how about underhand?” He kept calling out different directions for a while, testing your reactions but you felt it helped you get a better grip on the toy and you found yourself adjusting how you held it so your movements became more fluid. Roger watched you as you tried to keep up, his eyes locked onto your hands. Had you been looking, you might have caught sight of him subtly adjusting himself in his pants. Finally, he seemed satisfied that you could successfully single strike from any direction and asked you to try the circle and figure eight motions. They were harder to start, more awkward as you tried to work out the best way to move the flogger, and you caught Roger chuckling.” “Oi, stop laughing,” “Do you want some help?” he was still smiling but his request was genuine and when you nodded he stepped towards you. One of his hands moved to your waist as the other lay over yours on the handle of the flogger. You tried not to grin too much as he did exactly why you’d hoped, and you felt him so close behind you. “Like this,” His arm gently directed yours, the flogger beginning to move in a smooth circle. “Oh, not so hard then,” you laughed, half turning to face him, “Y’know if someone walked in now this would be pretty hard to explain.” His eyes darted to your lips, “Good thing we locked the door then.” You hummed, waiting to see if Roger would close the gap. He did a few seconds later, leaning in to kiss you softly. But the movement caused you both to forget about the flogger, your hands falling out of rhythm, and the tails whacking against your outstretched arms as they fell. “Ow,” you both groaned, Roger stepping away from you. It was disappointing but the disappointment was a little confusing. Surely you weren’t hoping for your professor to kiss you when you had no intention of sleeping with him that night. Roger laughed, “Maybe that’s enough of the flogger today.” “Might be for the best. Good thing I was so bad at it, otherwise we might have been really hurt.” “You weren’t that bad. You actually looked good with it before I brought in the circles. Quite sexy really.” “Thanks,” you said softly, trying to hide how pleased you were at that praise, “What else is there then?”

“There's only one more that I can demonstrate but then there’s a few others I’ll touch on quickly too. So the last one I own is a crop.” He picked it up off the table, his fingers sliding along the length of it’s handle as he spoke, “This one I would put in the stingy category. It’s fast and sharp. Again, you can get crops in a few different styles. They will all have a handle like this, long and thin and probably with a slightly thicker point towards the end that’s easy to hold onto. The difference will be in the bit you hit with. This one is based on the sort of riding crop that's used on horses, so it’s quite plain. There’s just this loop of leather which hangs off the end. But others can be more decorative. I’ve seen crops which had ends shaped like hearts or that had studs pushed into them. Some of them are padded and some have a more rounded shape. We like our variety.” “It looks scarier than the others I think,” “Yeah, they’re quite intimidating aren’t they. And if you do it right, it’ll make a noise through the air, which just adds to how intimidating it can be.” “Can you show me how to swing it now?” “Absolutely. Now, you want to stand a bit further back with a crop because there is such a long handle. And the magic is in the wrist with these. You just flick the wrist and...” You could hear the whooshing sound of it flying through the air before it cracked against the pig. “Now some crops are more bendy and some are more stiff so, if you get one, you’ll want to practice swinging it a bit before you use it on a person, to get a feel for it. The flexibility of it might dictate how you stand or how strong the swing has to be. Give this one a go though.” You felt oddly powerful as you took the crop and tightened your fist around the end. For a moment a vision of you decked out in leather dominatrix gear popped into your head and you nearly laughed. Unfortunately, the intimidating whooshing noise Roger had achieved was not as easy for you to make as you’d hoped, and the imagined power soon dissipated as you struggled to make the weapon sing. Roger however was not disappointed. “It takes practice,” was what he said when you lamented your inability to create the sound, “And you don’t have to have the sound to make a good hit. It’s just kind of cool.” When you still seemed disappointed he sighed. “If it’s any help, I can’t always make the sound either. And besides, I wasn’t intending to use that one on you, unless you really, really want to. I mostly brought it to show you as an interesting part of your theory lessons. And so you’d have a sense of what a cane is like, even though I don’t have any of them to demonstrate.” “A cane? Like....caning? Like what Victorian kids used to have done if they misbehaved or whatever?” Roger laughed, “Kind of, yeah. It does have a history in corporal punishment. Which, might I add, wasn’t just for Victorian kids. It was still a thing when I was a kid. We didn’t get caned, more likely to be whacked over the knuckles with a ruler, but still. I don’t think it really left schools until the 80s.” “Jesus,” “Yeah. Occasionally I do wish I could bring out a ruler to shut a kid up,” he winked in jest, “Anyway, caning for BDSM is similar and uses the same sort of tool. A cane, funnily enough. Canes are long and thin like a crop but without the leather flap at the end or the more padded handle area. Traditionally they’re made from rattan which is a type of plant, but you can also get synthetic canes which are covered in leather. In my experience synthetic canes are actually harder. Not to use, I mean in the way they feel when you’re hit with them. The traditional rattan ones require a lot of maintenance though. You have to water them between uses, literally soaking them in a bath of water so they don’t dry out and break. But the benefit with a rattan cane is that if you get it home and realise you’d like something a bit shorter, you can cut it off yourself and just sandpaper down the rough edge and it’s good as new.” “So are there any different version aside from synthetic? All the other toys had lots of variety.” “Hmmm, not really. Most of the difference will be in how thick the cane is, which can effect the feel of it a lot. A thinner cane will sting when it hits and the force will make the skin hug the cane so it leaves these long marks behind. A thicker cane though might sting less but it’ll still hurt a lot, just more thuddy. And you tend to get more bruising from the thicker ones.” “And do you use it the same as a crop?” “Mostly, yes. The biggest difference is that you can use a larger section of a cane. The crop has the specific bit at the end to hit with whereas a cane doesn’t have that limit. The most important thing to remember is to try and aim a little short of where you want to hit because if you hit with a part of the cane six inches down, those top six inches are going to hit as well, and with force behind them they will wrap around the person’s side or arse or whatever until they make contact. But other than that, it’s a similar motion from the wrist and uses a similar amount of energy. And canes can make the cool whippy noise too.”

“Is that everything then?” “One last one, really quick. Whips.” “Oh yeah, I’ve heard of whipping in kink.” “Yeah, it’s one of those things that gets mentioned a lot even if comparatively fewer people are actually into it. But everyone’s heard the phrase chains and whips in relation to BDSM. There's a few different varieties of whips but I don’t really know enough about them to know the difference. They all look like whips to me. Very cowboy. But they’re one of the more intense versions of impact play. The pain they cause is quite sharp and stingy and will be very localised to a specific point because they have the one tail, as opposed to floggers which have multiple tails. Whips are very capable of breaking the skin though and feel very intensely painful. I do not recommend them unless you discover you’re a masochist and you’ve tried everything else impact play has to offer.” “No need to tell me twice, Professor. Definitely do not want to try whips any time soon.” “That’s very reasonable. And that is all of the impact play options I wanted to go through. There’s a little more to cover regarding safety before I let you go for the night, but how about we put the pig away and hope no one notices it’s been marked by crops and floggers.” You chuckled and quickly moved to help Roger push the trolley back towards the freezer, locking the dead pig away securely, and to help pack up his toys. When everything was tidy again you re-took your seat, Roger taking the one beside you. It made the end of the lesson feel less like a lesson and more of just a casual chat, the topic of which happened to be BDSM. “The most important thing to remember when trying impact play is which parts of the body are safest to hit.” He paused for a moment, considering you, “But you’ve been studying biology for a while now, Ms Y/L/N. Care to guess which parts are safe and which parts you should avoid?” You hadn’t expected to be asked so took a moment to consider your answer, “Well, the arse obviously. Ummm.... I guess I’d assume the best places to hit are the bits with more meat on them.” “Very good. Entirely correct. There’s a reason most people think about spanking on the arse and that’s because it’s one of the best places to spank. Well, that and the fact that spanking is used so frequently in punishment scenes where you bend the naughty girl over your knee. But, yes, hitting the arse is good. Hitting the thighs can also be good, though the bit just under the arse cheek where it connects to the thighs hurts a lot. Which isn’t to say don’t ever spank there, just be mindful that it’s going to hurt more than directly on the arse cheeks. The pecks or breasts can be good places to hit, even the upper back where the shoulder blade is can be good. What about places to avoid hitting? Any ideas what those might be?” You hummed in thought, “I’d imagine you wouldn’t want to hit the spine since it’s so important.” “Right again Ms Y/L/N. The spine is definitely something to avoid. I don’t like hitting on the back much at all because there's too much important stuff there but I do know some others who don’t mind using a flogger there, especially while warming up before things get too intense. There are also the kidneys to watch out for,” he moved his hand to press against the spot on his own back, “because, as you no doubt know, part of the kidneys stick out under the ribcage so aren’t fully protected. Then a little lower down, just above the arse, is the tailbone which should also be avoided. “What about the neck? That would be bad to hit too, right?” “Yup. And that’s something to watch for if you’re doing anything on the shoulder blades. The spine of course runs all the way up the back of the neck and hitting there can do some very serious and lasting damage if you’re not careful. I know some people who will only flog the shoulder blades if the sub is wearing a collar because that adds a bit of protection around the C5 and C6 vertebrae but even so, better safe than sorry in my opinion. The front of the neck is also not good to hit since that’s where the vocal cords and all that is.” “Which is why you have to be careful with a flogger’s tails, right?” “Right. But what about on the front? Is there anywhere else you’d avoid?” “Pussy,” you said with a laugh. Roger laughed too, “Actually, depending on how it’s done, spanking a pussy can be quite enjoyable.” “Wait really?” “Yeah. I prefer doing it with my hand since you can feel when it makes the sub wet but it’s not totally unusual to use paddles or crops or even floggers down there too. I’m sure some people whip as well.” You gulped at the thought. “The biggest area to avoid on a person’s front side is the diaphragm and middle of the chest. There’s a lot of important stuff in there and a lot less tissue than elsewhere.” “Do people get badly hurt doing impact play?” you glanced over the list of places Roger said to avoid. It made it seem like almost any spanking was running the risk of more than just some bad bruising. “Sometimes.” Roger said seriously. He paused for a moment, thinking, and then continued, “Things can go wrong. And when you’re playing with intentionally hurting someone, things going wrong can be very serious. I won’t pretend there aren’t stories of people trying impact play and ending up paralysed or worse. But if you’re careful, if you pay attention and only hit certain areas and are mindful of how hard you’re hitting, then you’re going to be fine. And that’s why we come up with safe words and talk through scenes before we do them. So that you can minimize those risks and have a chance to communicate any worries or concerns.” “But how can safe words help if you say them after you’ve already been hurt too much?” “Well, for one, even if you’ve been hurt badly, using your safe word can stop things from being made worse. But you don’t have to wait until you’re hurt to use the safe word. Yes, if I spank you four times in a row and the fourth one feels so bad you can’t go on, then you should use your safe word before I give you a fifth. But you could also use it after the third hit when you aren’t sure if you want the fourth. And safe words aren’t just about physical pain. If you start off excited but then feel anxious after two hits you are well within your rights to safe word. You don’t have to wait until the damage is done. And, obviously, it’s not always easy to tell if that one hit more is going to be enough to make you want to stop. You can’t always know if the next hit is going to catch your neck wrong and do serious damage. But if you feel at all worried that it might, speak up. Not just worried either. If you feel distracted or you think I’m not paying enough attention to how I’m spanking you, or if I move to spank and area you don’t want me to touch, tell me. There is no wrong reason to use a safe word, even if we’re only a few minutes into the scene. I’ve said before that I’d rather you tell me to stop than for us to go on and you not feel comfortable, and I mean it.” “I know, I guess I just never really thought about it being for mental stuff as well as physical.” “Mmm, I should have checked that.” “Well, let’s face it, you probably tried and I just didn’t pay attention. But, y’know, you’re very good at reassuring me when I start to get nervous.” “I hope that’s a good thing.” “It definitely is. I think if I didn’t have the reassurance, I’d chicken out of some things.” “As long as you’re aware of the difference between some healthy nerves and anxiety that could be a sign you should slow down. And that you keep telling me how you’re feeling.” “Of course I will.” “Good girl.”

An understanding seemed to pass between you as you sat in near silence, eyes on the other. Until Roger drew in a long breath and stood up. “Right well, I think that’s just about everything. Obviously we weren’t able to see the levels of bruising that different implements can cause but it’s kind of dependent on the individual anyway. Everything can influence the severity of bruises and other marks. Tell me what a bruise is.” “It’s broken blood vessels under the skin which cause discolouration.” “Bingo. Now, obviously being spanked with a hand will leave less obvious bruises than being hit with a crop will and usually a paddle will bruise less than....i don’t know, a leather belt. But there's lots of factors to consider. The sub’s age, diet, the colour of their skin, their hydration level, how much sun exposure they’ve had recently, stress levels, hormones. And the biggest of all is how much stimulus they receive on that part of the body. The more you hit a spot, the deeper it will bruise. So, don’t expect bruises and marks to appear exactly the same every time you make them. There are some ways to heighten or lessen marks left during BDSM, but I’ll go through those when you’re ready for our practical lessons. And we’ll also go through some ideas for popular scenes and positions before we settle on what our scene will look like.” Roger seemed to hesitate for a few seconds, “Of course, it’s not so late we have to stop. If you did want to start testing out some light impact play, or if you wanted to revisit a previous topic, you’re more than welcome to come back to mine.” “No,” you said much too fast, the suggestion catching you completely off guard. “Okay, no problem,” Roger said, his eyes downcast. “I didn’t mean...just that tonight’s not great timing.” You’d really thought you’d got out of having to talk about it but you could see Roger was going to ask what you were talking about when on a regular tutoring night you’d likely still be in his bed. All the same you couldn’t quite make eye contact as you explained, “My period started last night, that’s all. Makes things a bit awkward.” “Oh is that all?” You shrugged, “Yeah.” “Well there’s no need to feel awkward or embarrassed about that. And there’s no reason to hide it from me. Aside from the fact that I’ve been married and had kids, I’ve also been teaching biology for longer than I care to count, so I’m very familiar with the reproductive processes and the reality of the menstrual cycle.” “I knew you were going to say something like that.” “Because it’s true. And besides, periods are important to factor into our lessons because they can change how you’ll respond to various kinks. Fluctuating hormone levels can change how much you enjoy or desire sex, as well as the physical sensation of different forms of touch. A lot of women find breast stimulation uncomfortable in the lead up to their period because their breasts become tender at that stage of their cycle. It can also make vaginal sex undesirable, at least in the first couple of days if not longer, whether because of a physical discomfort or pain, or just because it makes sex messier and more annoying to clean up after. The hormonal shifts in a menstrual cycle can also effect libido too, either stopping you from feeling aroused or causing hyper arousal. And all of that is important to consider, especially when we get to other things like orgasm denial. So, don’t feel you have to hide your periods from me, okay? I want to know if something is going to effect how enjoyable these lessons are for you. And plus, I factored periods into the timeline, remember? If you want to postpone for a week we can. His little speech did put you at ease a bit, the weight of admitting the truth no longer as heavy now that he knew, but it still wasn’t an especially comfortable conversation, “Well, I should be okay to go in a few days.” “Would you be up for having sex on one of the last days of your period when your flow is a little lighter? Or would you rather wait until after it was finished?” You tried not to cringe too much upon hearing Roger talk about your flow, “After I think. I don’t know. How do you feel about it?” Roger shrugged, “If we were just having sex without the kinky stuff I’d be okay with period sex. It’s a little more effort since we’d need to put towels down and all that but I’m not completely opposed to it if we’re both in the mood. However, I think since we’re playing with BDSM it’s probably a good idea to wait.” You nodded, glad the topic was almost settled, “Yeah, that makes sense. I think I’d feel too self-conscious to enjoy any period sex but you’re definitely right about the BDSM stuff. Just makes it easier for my first time trying things out if I’m not worrying about, um, bleeding everywhere.” Roger gave you a reassuring smile which made your heart flutter, grateful he hadn’t made things too difficult or drawn out, “That’s settled then. We can put a pin in all of this for now and come back to it when you’re ready.” “Thanks. Will Friday suit? I think I should be right by then.” “Friday sounds great.” “Really? You don’t have to, like, pick up the kids or anything?” Roger shook his head, amused, “No. It is technically my weekend with them but they’re both staying at friend’s placed over night so I won’t see them until Saturday. Friday we can start testing some things and if we need to, we can come back next Monday and go through more. And I finish a bit earlier on Fridays so maybe we could start a bit earlier.” “Yeah that works for me.” “Great. I guess we should get out of here then.” Roger ushered you from the classroom and walked beside you all the way to the carpark, your footsteps echoing down the corridors. He chatted to you quietly about non-kinky topics, as if you’d merely ended up walking the same direction by accident, just in case anyone was looking. You were almost sad to reach your car, drawing the conversation to an end, “This is me.” “One last thing, Ms Y/L/M.” “Mmm?” “For homework-” “Homework?” “Yes. For homework I want you to watch some porn with impact play in it. You’ll find a few examples linked in a document I’ve dropped in our folder but feel free to find your own too. It can be spanking by hand or flogging or any other form of impact we discussed today, whatever turns you on most. Because I want you horny when I see you on Friday. I want you to spend all week thinking about naughty sluts who get spanks, knowing you’ll soon be one of them. I want you excited to be hit and wet at the thought of me spanking your arse and cunt while I fill your holes with cock. Is that clear?” Roger had leant closer as he talked and your stomach did a backflip as he stood up. All you could do was nod, completely lost for words as Roger chuckled and walked into the dark towards his own car.

#my writing #my fics #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor smut #roger taylor imagine #gonna try and get the next one written a bit quicker lmao

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